Missing Pieces
by EllieMP
Summary: A story about two broken hearts that meet, or what happens when a man without a son meets a boy without a father. (sequel to 'From the Ashes')
1. First Impressions

_March, 1979_

'Just give me a minute…'

'Hey, take your time. If I'm not mistaken they should be finished soon anyway.'

Principal Bine approached the window.

'I didn't know you're breeding Olympic talents, Andrew.'

'Who knows… But if I don't give them extra phys. ed. classes they'd bring the place down.'

The guest responded with a smile and kept following the running boys with unconcealed fascination.

'Extra classes, ha? And hurdles, too?'

'These are donation from the Sports School. Some extra work for the hyper-active kids.'

'Or for the long-legged ones,' grinned the man.

Mr Bine followed the direction the steel-blue eyes were staring at.

'What do you think?'

'There's always a call for fast runners…'

'You'll find plenty here.' Bine smiled. 'Especially this one.' He pointed at one boy who had just outrun the rest by nearly 10 metres.

'Yeah… That kid jumps like gravity doesn't exist to him.'

'Oh, he's a pleasure to watch. As long as he's busy with sport I know nothing will go down for at least 45 minutes,' mumbled Bine with a sigh. His guest looked inquisitively. 'So, I encourage him to do sport… yes… more than I've encouraged my own children.'

The Principal sat behind his desk while the boys dispersed. The guest was curious to see the fast runner who caught his attention talk to a younger boy and then leave with him in direction different from where the others went.

Afterwards he sat opposite Bine.

'So, what do you think?'

'You've done miracles with this place.'

Bine grunted.

'My budget just got cut by 15%. I don't know what I should do – sack my staff, put the kids on a diet, or prepare everybody for a cold winter.'

'Don't you get donations?'

'Sure, over Christmas and Easter. The little man's natural inclination towards redeeming sins with money seems to be at its highest only over the occasional birth and resurrection of God.'

The guest frowned.

'But I'm happy. The local community just delivered us 20 kg of clothes, half of them falling apart. I'm glad they realise orphans don't walk with a leaf in front but they don't also wear clothes with blood stains and fleas.'

'Good Gracious…'

'Anyway. Thanks for coming.'

'It's the least I could do. Andrew, if I had known, I'd have come earlier.'

'No problem, I still have my fire chief.'

'Well, any future fire-fighters?'

'There might be. But they need good grades and most importantly, will to do it. And they aren't many. Most of these children don't care…'

The Principal never got to finish his sentence as a loud knock on the door interrupted him. Before he could even say 'Come in' the door banged open and two boys rushed in. Well, one rushed, the taller one, the other timidly sneaked behind him.

The guest immediately recognised the fast runner from few minutes earlier.

'Come, Ben, come 'ere.'

The smaller boy stepped forward but was still hiding behind the other one.

'Tell him what you told me.'

'Uhm…'

Bine had a bored look. He reminded someone well accustomed to situations like the present one, and he was not the least surprised by seeing this boy in particular.

'What is it now, Peter?'

'It's about the missing money…'

'The responsible got punished. And… I know he's your friend…'

'Max is innocent!'

'Peter… temper, Peter…'

'Ben, come on.'

'What if they catch me?'

'Stick to me and no one will dare touch you.'

The teenager was standing not far from the desk. He looked like he paid no attention to the fact that the Principal was not alone.

'Who will catch you, Ben?'

The smaller boy gulped. He looked the taller one and then said, 'Vince and Scott'.

'Why would they want to catch you?'

The boy hesitated.

'I… The other day I saw them… In their dormitory…'

'…And?'

'They… they were talking about '40 a head'… Then I saw Vince holding a box and… I realised it was money only later, when a $20 bill fell from Scott's pocket during lunch.'

'You see, it's not Max.'

'That doesn't prove anything.'

'Oh, yeah, and what proves that Max did it in the first place? 'Cause one of these idiots said he saw him? 'Cause Max has a record?'

'There's also no need to put the blame on them just because they're new here.'

'And it's easier to punish Max, right? What's the point of your stupid regulations, anyway, if it's an innocent who is punished?'

This time the sitting opposite Bine lifted head and examined the tall boy visibly impressed.

'These are strong words.'

The teen glanced at him for a moment but didn't pay much attention.

'I'll check what you just said, Ben. Why didn't you come earlier?'

' 'Cause he's afraid.'

'I believe Ben can speak for himself, Peter.'

'I'm afraid,' repeated the younger boy.

'All right, I'll see what I can do.'

'You can clear Max, that's what you can do.'

'My patience has its limits, Peter, and you're approaching them quickly,' said Bine slowly and almost in whisper.

'He doesn't seem to be afraid,' added the guest amused and quite impressed, too.

'Afraid of wha',' snapped Peter at the man sitting almost next to him. 'That my miserable life will get any more miserable than _this_?' shouted the boy and opened hands pointing at his sombre surroundings.

The tall teenager looked the Principal severely and left without a sound. Ben was more communicative.

'B-bye, Principal,' he blurted and ran after his protector.

Back in the office Bine's guest was bewildered.

'What was that?'

'You don't want to know…'

X

On their way out the two men passed from the main hall. Some children, mostly younger ones, were busy with activities, while the older were gathered in groups around, were observing them with mocking grins on their faces. Subconsciously the guest compared the sight to one of the National Geographic's documentaries about the wild animals of Africa where the lions are hiding in the grass, waiting for the right time to attack the unsuspecting impalas…

The right time suddenly came.

One tall, skinny boy approached one of the younger ones who was sitting on a couch, reading _Tom Sawyer_.

'The library is up…'

'Shhh, hold on, hold on.'

'What?'

'Wait…'

The instinct had spotted a potential trespasser. Yet, it was another instinct that made him stop. He _had_ to see if his hunch was right.

The skinny rascal approached his victim. After a quick look through the room he pulled the book out of the little hands, pulled the boy himself and victoriously nested in his seat. He pretended to be reading his new possession when a hand stretched from behind and pulled it. Things might have developed in a whole different way had it not been for the flashing shine of something metallic in the skinny boy's hands.

Bine's guest ran. But as it turned Peter did not need his help. The skinny rascal was too slow in his attack. All Peter had to do was push him to the head. Next thing he jumped after him and was planning to continue with his attack but fortunately, for the boy that is, Paul and the supervisors arrived on time.

The knife was immediately put away and the guilty was held tight. Holding Peter, however, was not that simple.

'You want to fight me, coward?'

The other kid was resisting but the wardnes, well experiences already, were holding him tight in their bear grips.

'I'll show you, Caine.'

'Let me see you, then, come on…'

Peter tried to approach but a surprisingly strong hand held him.

'That's enough, son…'

Annoyed at the interference from a stranger Peter nervously shook the hand off.

'I'm not your son,' barked the teenager and moved away.

Slightly taken aback the man with steel-blue eyes decided not to interfere any further. He only observed Peter take the ruffled book and give it back to its rightful owner, a nine-year old boy that had arrived at _Pineridge_ two months ago. The man also clearly overheard that the boy was always to count on the older kid, and that should anyone bother him he was going to deal with him.

'Take him to the isolator,' ordered Bine and approached his old friend. The nostalgia in his eyes was evident.

'Now you see what I have to deal with…'

'Does he always do that?'

'What? Who..'

'That kid.. With the dark hair… Does he always protect the little ones?'

'Oh, that one.' The principal chuckled. 'Actually, since day one. Defender of the weak, protector of the innocent…'

The guest shot his friend a scornful look.

'The kid has many issues, Paul, I'm not kidding here.' The men headed for the yard. 'At first I had really high hopes of him. He turned Resnoff around, you know.'

'Who, Max Resnoff? The kid that has a place behind bars reserved for him?'

'Same. He's a quiet lamb now. He's afraid of our dark-haired knight, but they eventually became friends, too.'

'Afraid? Andrew, Max is bigger than me!'

'Sure,' said Bine bored. 'You should have seen how he swept the ground with Max… after he took two of my toughest supervisors.'

'Are you joking?'

'I wish. Peter was a shy, quiet boy when he came here. Few months later and he was your average big-mouthed, know-it-all kid of the streets. He's escaped twice so far, and two of my local precincts have his photo on the wall.'

'But he doesn't look… it doesn't make sense…'

'Look, I don't mean to question your judgement of people, but this boy _does_ have some serious issues.'

'Don't you have a psychologist to take care of these things?'

'Oh, we did, Dr Wolly. She was brilliant, and she was friend with the kid. But cuts in my budget, as well as the almighty state of New York, decided I was spoiling the kids too much. She quit 6 months after Peter came here. Basically the whole place started changing… for the worse…'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

Paul was already in front of his car.

'So, I'll see you next week?'

'Absolutely, I'm looking forward to it.'

The leaving guest opened the door. His leg was getting inside the car when he stopped.

'One thing I don't get…'

'What's that?'

'When you said that this kid took Resnoff and two heavy, grown men… How?!'

'Are you still there? Paul, the boy is not worth it…'

'That's a horrible thing to come from a man who's responsible for 60 children.'

'Ninety-three, counting the girls' building.' Bine felt guilty. He did like Peter, at the beginning at least, but a bit over half a year later the boy was getting from bad to worse, and that was not only his vocabulary. 'I… OK, so, the fighting style is… ehm… kung..'

'Kung fu?'

'Yes, yes, like Bruce Lee's…'

'Bruce Lee's style is only based… Never mind. Where...,' Paul coughed. 'Where has he learned it?'

'There was some monastery down in California that burned down…'

'The Shaolin temple in Northern California?' The blue eyes doubled their size. 'God…'

'So, you know about it?'

'…It…it's my job to know about these things, Andrew.'

'Of course, of course.'

'Well… I… I should be going. See you in a week.'

'Looking forward to it. Bye.'

**XXX**


	2. Take It As It Comes

The orphanage _had_ changed. When Principal Andrew Bine had taken charge of the place he wanted to create something liveable, a place where orphaned children would grow to be valuable additions to society.

The former lawyer's idealized views were quickly brought down to earth. He was blamed to waste money on 'unnecessary luxuries' such as own psychiatrist and single rooms where difficult children would be placed until they adjusted.

The rooms he was ready to part with. All he meant by creating them was to place in them children with nightmares and other issues, mainly to protect the others who were more or less 'adjusted' to the orphanage. Those were dropped two months after Peter's arrival.

But the psychiatrist? It was enough the place did not have a doctor, only two nurses. The psychiatrist was a treasure the Principal fought for long and hard. A professional with medical degree was not only to give shifts in the clinic, but also take care of the orphans' shaken emotional state. In vain. He was forced to sack a quarter of his staff and cut Dr Wolly's salary by 20% and unsurprisingly she left only a month later.

Now _Pineridge_ had to put up with students and interns, most of whom barely distinguished depression from bad mood. The single rooms had been connected to the dormitories and as for the supervisors that were to watch over the discipline, three of them were prisoners on probation –the only people who had agreed to work at the orphanage practically for charity.

The broad park was different, too. The pond which was not to be maintained anymore was left to snow and rain take care of its content. The eastern corner had been leased to a nearby private owner. A great deal of the grass area had been turned into an outdoor playground since the small gym had to be closed. Many of the trees, mostly those fit for climbing, had to become fire wood, an emergency decision during one particularly bitter winter which had arrived only weeks after the first series of budget cuts.

Bine drew a deep breath and locked himself in his office. At least the new cuts came in spring.

X

Some say that half a year is a long time, others – that is passes in the blink of the eye. To Peter Caine it was both. On the one hand time seemed to drag itself at least only to protrude his suffering. On the other it was like yesterday when Pink Hai's student had escorted him to Sloanville. The teen was still angry at himself for not hiding better when he had the chance. He could have been on his way to China by now…

During that seemingly short time Peter never noticed the drastic changes in his temper. The realisation that everything his father had taught him was a lie hit him the second time he tried to talk a young delinquent out of harassing the little ones. The rascal did not listen at first and a day later got such a beating that he could not breathe properly for a week. _Then_ he listened.

And so young Peter Caine discovered that it was not the palm of kung fu that gets to be respected, it was the fist.

He buried the pain. To fit, to sleep, and simply to survive, he buried it under a thick veil of growing anger. At present he was even grateful for being in the orphanage because after his second escape, on a Sunday afternoon when he had been taken forcefully to that boring Catholic church, he had to admit he was completely unprepared for life on the outside... or for life in general. And all was _his_ fault, his, his…

Max and Kyle were his best pals now. The two boys had eventually buried the hatchet. Max had mellowed even more, while Kyle had opened up significantly, to a point that after a few kung fu lessons he got the confidence to start defending the weak himself.

The three boys were in their usual hideout by the fence.

'Good stuff,' smacked Peter as he drew a puff and handed the cigarette to Max.

'Not too bad to have connections, eh' grinned the bulky boy and passed the nicotine-stuffed paper roll to Kyle.

'Better than the last ones.'

'Hey, cut me some slack, will ya,' defended himself Max. 'You think it's easy to get these in here? It's not.'

'Ok, man, relax. Jeez…'

'Still, the once I brought you last month were the best,' remarked Peter. During his most recent escape he had managed three days on the streets, and was proud with his first robbery – two packs of cigarettes and one beer.

'Good hand,' puffed Max. 'Next time you ditch here aim for _Marlboro_, they are the best.

'I'll try,' promised the teen.

Peter was more quiet than usual. He was too busy reflecting on his situation even to greet 14-year-old Frankie J. who just joined them. The teen was wondering what his father would think if he could see him smoke cigarettes and drink. But then again, his father lied to him, so who cared…

'Hey, earth to Peter...'

'AWha'.. Thanks.' He gladly finished the fag and took a second one.

'Another one?'

'Why not?'

'We've got only 10 left,' noticed Kyle.

'Max, what do you think?'

'I'll have a delivery in ten days. If you can wait…'

'Gimme, gimme,' insisted Frankie and lit the new cigarette.

Peter looked at his friends. Max had a file, Frankie was from a family of drug dealers and had been caught stealing from a bakery back in the days when he was living in the streets. The young Caine was actually proud that he also had done something naughty, it helped him fit in.

On the evening of his 13th birthday he and Max stood past bed time and drunk what was Peter's first beer in his life. Peter shared how odd it felt that so many of the children here had broken the law in one way or another. Max laughed patronisingly and informed him that it was supposed to be so since they sent only the delinquents to _Pineridge_.

Was he a delinquent? He had not done anything wrong in his short life, to anyone. Why here? Because he escaped? At least now that he was officially a criminal Peter felt he deserved to be at _Pineridge_. At least now it no longer felt wrong that he was here. Now he too was a delinquent.

X

One week later was Captain Paul Blaisdell's first talk at _Pineridge_. Though many things were gone Principal Bine's programme stayed on. The visits of fire chief Willis were a huge success. It seemed the police captain enjoyed similar if not greater popularity.

The room was crowded. Involuntarily Paul sought the known tall boy with dark hair but did not see him. Slightly disappointed he gave his talk. It was going to be only introductory since he was supposed to come once every two months or so. He spoke of the Police Academy, how the local one was considered one of the toughest and most prestigious in the country, and how 15% of the candidates did not manage to graduate because it was just too difficult.

It worked. The audience felt intrigued, challenged even. Inevitably they asked what was so special about the training, and Paul promised to find time and organise a day out where they could have a taste of it. The kids were ecstatic.

The talk took less than an hour; the Captain did not want to bore his young audience from the first day. And he did well, because the questions he was showered with afterwards took another half hour.

X

'I don't know, I expected more… people…'

'Are you kidding me? Paul, it was amazing! The talks have never been so successful!'

Back in Bine's office the two men were sipping coffee, and Paul's eyes were checking the landscape outside way too often.

'Are you in a hurry?'

'Nah, just coming from the mayor's office, I'm in no hurry to get back in the mess of my precinct.'

'I hear you did wonders with that place.'

'There's still a lot to do. It's enough I made it to Captain without having been to the Academy…'

'Don't worry, I'll make sure my wards never hear of this.'

They smiled.

'How are Anny and the girls?'

'Great, great… She still hates it when I get a call but there's nothing I can do about it…'

'Is anyone staying with them when you're away?'

'Annie's sister usually comes over. I can't dump it all in Carol's hands.'

'How old is the little angel, 10?'

'Turned 11 this year. Man, when did time go by?'

'Yeah…'

'So, anything new around here? Any more cuts?'

'Thank God, no. What else… More kids come in than go out, but that's how it is.

'Not many interested?'

'Nope! We had two adoptions, both kids under 10. Fostering is more often but you know how those usually go.'

'Sadly, I do.'

Bine inspected his friend. The eyes were still wandering outside.

'No gym classes today, I'm afraid.'

'I noticed.'

The principal smiled.

'And you know, your old acquaintance Resnoff… he turned out to be innocent.'

Finally he had Paul's full attention.

'He did?'

'I had a couple of wardens watch over the two suspects. They caught the rascals the moment they were trying to buy beer from the outside. We broke a whole chain that was trading stuff with the orphanage, and I don't mean only beer.'

'You don't say…'

'Man, I hate it when the kid is right.'

'What kid?' Paul pretended he did not understand who they were talking about.

'Peter, of course.'

'Oh, yes, I remember him. Has he messed in another trouble?'

'Well, let me see… I caught him smoking but that's nothing new. He fought a couple more times... Nope, nothing out of the ordinary.'

'Right. Well, I have to go.'

'Glad we had time for a chat.'

'Yeah, me too, lots to catch up.'

'See you in May?'

'See you then.'

**XXX**


	3. Not Giving You Up

_May, 1979_

Those two months must have been endless. At least that's how it seemed to police Captain Blaisdell. For reasons yet to be determined the ill-mannered boy he met at _Pineridge_ had made huge impression on him, though he refused to admit it. The morning on the Thursday when he was supposed to return to the orphanage his sagacious wife approached him.

'Are you meeting someone important today?' she asked while carefully serving scrambled eggs.

'No, not really. Why?'

'Not the mayor, the governor, or anybody else?'

'Is this an interrogation,' playfully asked her husband.

'Well, I don't remember you so nervous in a long time. I had to ask.'

'You think I'm nervous?'

'It's obvious.'

'Hm… No, I… I guess I'm just looking forward to going back to _Pineridge_, that's all.'

'Really? And all you're looking forward to is talking to a group of orphans?'

'Annie!'

'Honey, don't misunderstand me… I just don't like it when you hide things from me.'

Paul sighed.

'I have to go. Do you need help?'

'Excuse me?'

'No, no, of course not. Oh, boy, she's mad now…'

He grinned and gently held the slender hand while the lady was getting up.

'No, I don't need help! Now get out of my kitchen!'

'I love you!'

'I love you, too!' she replied tenderly and confident but careful used the sense of her touch to make her way in the broad kitchen.

X

No, Paul did not tell his wife everything. But he had a very weird feeling in his guts, and he was not going to bother her until he was certain. Today he was simply enthusiastic… after the success from yesterday…

First he needed an excuse. So, out of the blue, Paul had arranged to have lunch with his old friend the day before his talk. Before heading for the principal's office he checked the room where the talk was to be held. Next to the front desk he found a list with the names of the children that had signed. The Principal invented that after a few smart ones ditched class and claimed they were at the talk held at that time.

So there was a list with all who were to come, and the teachers in the relevant classes were informed of it. The list was long, and, Paul could swear, there were even more names than before.

He read through the names.

He read second time.

Apparently the name _Peter_ was a rare one because nobody by that name had signed for the talk. But Paul refused to give up so easy. He approached one supervisor and asked few questions, each of them hinting at where the boy in question might be.

In the end he concluded, it had to be the gym.

The place was stuffy, in the usual manner of gyms. There were two entrances; Paul used the one for the staff, situated a level higher than the main room. From there he had a great view at a basketball game. Immediately it became evident who the top player was… the same who had the ball for most of the time.

The one-man shows had never appealed to the Captain but he had to admit – the kid did know his way around. After another half-time the boys were to jump for the ball again. Paul was so taken by the game and his favourite's performance that he no longer noticed neither the heavy, humid air, nor that he was still wearing his coat and hat.

As if by design Peter jumped above all and hit the ball so strong it flew up, high enough for Paul to catch it. Without hesitation Peter went to take it, not considering that the man could simply throw it back. He knew this was the police captain who was coming here quite often. Peter had never shared with anyone, not even Max, how he craved to talk to the man. After wall, his image of a _bad boy_ did not fit with attending the talks. None of his friends did.

What Peter did not know was that the captain had no intention in giving the ball so easy. Paul wanted to lure the kid up there and talk to him. Casually he leaned on the bar and waited for Peter to approach.

'Hi, I'm Paul Blaisdell, I'm a police officer.'

'So, is this a bust?' Peter took defensive position at once. Why did the guy tell him that? Peter knew who he was.

'Well, I…' Paul laughed. The boy was quick. 'I don't know. Have you done something to bust you for?'

Peter frowned.

'Ask the teachers,' was the stubborn reply. He was not going to admit to anything... not without a lawyer.

'I did.' Peter's heart stopped. 'And they said you're a pretty smart kid but you have an attitude problem.

The orphan's confidence grew.

'They've got the problem.' He got edgy. 'I know who I am.'

Paul smiled. In his long life he had learned that arrogant people were often the once that hid the strongest feelings. Something told him this youth was not going to be an exception.

'That puts you ahead of most of us,' replied the impressed man. 'I'm giving a lecture tomorrow. Are you interested in police work?'

'No!'

The reply came way too fast.

Peter got nervous. He had one goal, one dream, and none of it included police work. He had never considered any type of work here, in this country.

'Are you gonna throw the ball back, or do I have to wrestle you to the floor to get it?'

Defensive position, Paul had hit a soft spot. Whenever nervous or insecure, Peter tended to hide behind the only thing that gave him confidence – kung fu. Paul preferred not to answer, he was more of a… man of action.

The captain tossed the ball at Peter, and how he tossed it! Peter groaned and looked the man impressed. Paul meant to show that wrestling _him_ to the ground was not going to be that easy, and he succeeded. It was evident that getting to the young, hurt heart was not going to be easy, so he set to work.

'Nah… You know… if you cut yourself some slack, I bet that chip would just fall right off your shoulder, son.'

Peter was ready to jump at him, as he was with anyone who dared call him 'son'. Somehow he kept composure.

'What's it to you?'

'Not a thing.'

Both men, one young, the other not so much, were playing hard to get. For a moment Paul feared he might have played too hard, but as soon as the teen returned to the playground he asked:

'Hey… When's that lecture tomorrow?'

'Two o'clock.'

'Maybe I'll make it; that will get me out of the math class.'

'Good.'

Paul smiled. The inexplicable desire to know this child better was taking the better of him. He stayed to watch the game a bit longer. He was not even hiding that Peter had grabbed his interest, there was no one to notice anyway. The boy's athletic nature fascinated him.

Suddenly the smile faded. The eyes grew wet. Images of a basketball game ran through his mind. A cup shined. Voices shouted 'hooray'.

But that was _a different _game… long, long time ago…

The cop turned and left.

X

Paul entered the room with enthusiasm. He quickly spotted Peter, closer to the first rows than he had expected. The talk that day had a quick reminding of how one can become a cop. The rest was concentrated on different departments and professions affiliated with the police. The captain wanted to shed light on the work that meant a great deal to him. He did not make it all shiny and glorious, he mentioned some of the problems cops have to face nowadays, such as the inevitable paper work and the occasional corruption.

The lecture lasted more than an hour, and the questions were countless. Paul stayed longer than planned. He did everything to encourage the children to ask, just about anything, constantly reminding them that there's no such thing as a stupid question.

At last it paid off. Shyly Peter raised hand and was pointed at almost immediately.

'Uhm… It's about cops… Do they do anything else but chasing criminals? I mean... do they help?'

Unabashed giggles followed but were quickly silenced by Peter's severe gaze. Everybody knew what he was capable of, and everybody had seen him beat others for things far less important than a giggle.

Paul interfered.

'That was _not _a funny question,' he said in a significantly higher tone. Everybody stood still. 'In fact, it was a very mature one, because there _is_ more to a cop's work than chasing the bad guys.'

Paul waited for reaction. After assuring he had the kids' undivided attention he continued.

'OK.. Where should I begin… A cop has to be a multi-task, multi-talented creature. Apart from the obvious, we are psychologists. In the case of suicide attempts it is often we who do the job and talk potential suiciders out of taking their lives. We are nurses. We mend wounds and even deliver babies if we have to.'

The kids were stunned.

'That's right. I've done it two times myself. …Now, what else.. We are actors. Often we have to go undercover and pretend to be completely different human beings, and we don't get paid millions, not at all, but the price for a line said wrong can be our or someone else's life. …In addition, we are handy-men, marksmen, technicians and lifeguards. We find missing people and make sure that those who are lost find the way. A cop will help an elderly lady cross the street, if he must.'

The speech was incredibly powerful. True, Paul spoke with passion and raised voice but he revealed a whole new image of a police man, all thanks to Peter's intelligent question.

Himself, the teen was completely mesmerized. He never thought of cops to be anything else but a nuisance that prevented him from doing what he wanted. The boy felt tremendous respect for the older man. He heard very little of the rest of the talk and though he tried, it was completely impossible to get closer to the captain after that.

It was announced that Paul would not be there at least for the next two months due to his schedule but when he returned during the summer he would organise that so expected sports day with exercises straight from the Police Academy.

**XXX**


	4. Destiny and Its Little Helpers

_August, 1979_

The orphanage was like a bee hive. Classes had been dismissed. Even the little children would have something to do today. The programme was ready weeks ago. Principal Bine was really pleased. Few days before the event even his most troublesome rascals had found some good manners in them. The only difference, he thought, with a normal school sports day wass the lack of parents, encouraging their offspring.

Blaisdell arrived at about 9. He had two cadets from the Academy with him, one uniformed officer who had donated his day off to the orphans, and one detective.

The day was going to start with athletics, then the kids were going to have a small case to solve, then there would be more games, team ones this time, and the day was to finish with a whole Agatha Christy-type scene, with a murder case and clues, and one of the police officers was deemed to be the murderer. This last bit was allowed, for obvious reasons, to everyone who was 12 and older.

They were going to start with hurdles, to warm up, as Paul had called it. He was ready to put money on who the winner would be. The captain rubbed hands pleased and approached the casually dressed principal.

'Paul, you're getting my _Man of the Year_ award.'

'These things should happen more often here.'

'In the movies, I guess.'

While they were talking, Paul was inspecting the kids that were to run. There were 7 groups of five, and they were just getting ready.

'Interesting..'

'What?'

'Are these your fastest runners?'

'Them, and those who think they are,' chuckled Bine.

'I don't see the tall, dark-haired one…'

'Who, Peter? He's not here, he got fostered.'

Paul's neck cracked from the sharp movement.

'Re… really?'

'Yes, last month, a childless couple from the suburbs.'

'Well, that…' Paul had to turn to hide his disappointment. 'That's great. I wish the kid the best.'

'Yeah… Let see how long this one lasts.'

'What do you mean?'

'There were two attempts. One ended when he was blamed for stealing from the family and the other didn't even start. The man of the family told him 'Come on, son' and he went berserk. He started shouting 'I'm not your son, you never call me _son_' and that was that.

Paul frowned.

'What was the name of the first family?'

'Why?'

'If you don't tell me I'll find out myself.'

'Robertson, from Linden Town. Do you know the place?'

'Yes, I know it.'

Paul wanted to ask about the new family but stopped himself. He was only wondering what huge responsibility it would be to have a growing boy in your house, how much attention he needs. Would these people provide those things? Would they help him?

'…start?'

'What?'

'Do you want to give the start?'

'Oh, sure.'

With grim expression Paul joined the games. It was his idea, and he had to play along. He was incredibly sorry Peter was not there to impress the cop's colleagues. He was also surprised that he was finding it so difficult to be happy for the kid.

Eventually the captain forced himself to make it through the rest of the day. And it was a huge success! At bedtime the kids were exhausted, and happy, like never before. The organisers agreed that there were many future officers of the law in that orphanage, and the kids promised to keep their marks straight and make it to the Academy.

Only Bine did not share the enthusiasm. He was content, of course, alas he was also realistic. That day would certainly be the main topic of conversation for a few days, a week tops. And then slowly things would get back to the grey normality of their despairing every-day life. In fact, Andrew Bine doubted that any of his wards would find it in him to make it this far. It was far more likely that most of these would, indeed, end up in police precincts, but behind, not outside the bars.

X

_December, 1979_

Despite all of his misfortunes Principal Bine never gave up. With even fewer staff he refused to call off his Christmas reunion. He usually tried to organise those at least twice a year. The orphans thought it was a ridiculous event, where people came to see them the way they go to see the animals in the zoo. But the cruel truth was that those events were what kept the orphanage going. The meagre state funds were barely enough for salaries and bills. All of the rest depended entirely on donations. _All _of it.

This year the Christmas party combined a reunion and donors' event. Former pupils of _Pineridge_ were coming along, many bringing spouses and even children. Not all of them had made it to CEO, of course. Yet, they were the best example for the current inmates that it was possible to have a normal life if they have been raised in an orphanage, even if no one took them in.

About twenty former orphans came. Most of them had been adopted or fostered, only six of the present had made it all by themselves. The principal preferred not to make it public that many of those who never found home eventually did find a shelter… in prison.

Apart from the pupils Bine had invited all of the successful men and women he had had to hold talks that year, a school teacher, a professor, an artist, the fire chief, and Captain Blaisdell. Several members of the local political scene were present as well, but they were there for one reason only – to pay their due to society, polish their social status, and give some of the money they had decided not to spend on holiday villas and jewellery.

Annie Blaisdell, Paul's angelic wife, practically bullied him to take her along. He never shared details, yet she was certain that something in this place had caused a stir with her husband she had never sensed before.

'A chair at one o'clock, table at twelve.'

'I'll be fine, go.'

He reluctantly left his charming lady in the company of a twenty-year old medical student, one of the first generations of _Pineridge_, fostered at 7, adopted at 8.

'Andrew… Merry Christmas!'

'Merry Christmas, Paul! I'm surprised you came.'

'Why? I was looking forward to it,' lied Paul.

'I'd expect you to be asked to parties all over town.'

Paul laughed.

'Yeah, this close to Christmas I'm already sick of eggnog.'

'When is the party at the precinct?'

'Tomorrow. The one at the municipality was yesterday.'

'Tough job is yours,' sighed Bine and took a sip from his eggnog. He had not had enough of it yet to make him feel sick. In fact, he had barely had any.

The two men were walking among the guests when more of the orphans started coming. A few of the younger ones were already there, shyly hanging around the kids' table. Now more of the older arrived and were quickly welcomed by the former pupils who wanted nothing else but to meet the current inmates.

Paul was pretending to listen to a boring report from a local member of the council about the worrying rates of crime amongst adolescent, while in the meantime he was watching the children. They were hungrily attacking the desserts and simultaneously laughing loud and teasing each other. Apparently around Christmas even the street rats forgot their feuds.

The captain turned to respond to the politician when the corner of his eyes spotted a known figure. Sharply he turned back only to see it gone.

'I'm losing it,' he said to himself and politlely slipped from the annoying bald man's company

Annie was talking to Bine, and Paul eagerly sought shelter with the two. This was when he saw him again, by the drinks. Paul heard nothing of what Bine was telling to him, he only concentrated and… yes, that **was** him, that was Peter!

'…at the orphanage…'

'Say, Andrew, sorry to interrupt, what is the kid doing here?'

'Who?... Ah, Caine? Bah, I told you, didn't last long.'

'Honey, would you excuse us for a second?'

'Of course,' replied his wife and sipped from her freshly refilled cocktail. At least the reason Paul had been so obsessed with this place now had a name.

'What happened?'

'Paul… Why are you even bothering? Told you, he's a lost cause.'

'Oh, yeah? Let me tell you something. Do you remember that Robertson family, which had accused the kid of stealing?'

'He was lucky they didn't file a complaint.'

'Sure, lucky. Now, what if I told you that they have a twenty-four-year old daughter… who is also a diagnosed kleptomaniac?'

'What?!'

'Didn't know that, did you? The lady in question is an aspiring law-intern in a multinational company. Imagine what it would have done to her career if she was accused of stealing.'

Bine did not say anything.

'Paul, I… I had no idea…' He emptied his glass and cursed the cook for not adding enough rum to the bloody thing. 'That still doesn't prove anything…'

'No, of course not…'

But it did. No matter how much he tried to convince himself, Principal Bine had to admit that despite all of his faults Peter Caine was not a criminal. As a matter of fact, Bine was mostly angry at himself for being completely powerless at handling the boy. This was why he eventually lifted hands and started attempts to convince himself, by telling others, that the teenager was not worth bothering with.

'Now…' Paul returned with a full glass, on the way back refusing the company of few more politicians of local importance. 'Tell me what happened at the last place.'

'You won't like it.'

'Try me.'

'I'm afraid this goes well beyond simple jewellery theft.'

'I'm listening.'

'All right… Somewhere in September I was called at 54th precinct… There was Peter… and his foster parents… The woman had a black eye and bruises.'

Paul was stunned.

'You're not saying that…'

'I'm not saying anything. The woman said it was not the boy's fault, she made him angry…'

'Dear Lord…'

'Now, Paul, I told you the boy has issues. He's violent, Paul, and with what I've seen, perfectly capable of taking two men like you.'

'What happened?'

'Again he got lucky. They wanted to take him in but Mrs Lloyd didn't want to file a complaint, her husband insisted she should…'

'Wait! Joyce Lloyd?'

'Yes.'

'Wife of Perry Lloyd?'

'Yes…'

Paul massaged his eyes and sighed.

'…Andrew… Do you really believe he did it? Do you _actually_ believe that one teenage boy would attack his foster mother?'

'To be honest, no. I think it was the husband, and I think the whole precinct saw it. He just needed a scape goat. But if she didn't want to file a complaint…'

'So, again you gave up, ha?'

'Well, what could I do, Paul? Don't I have enough on my head already?'

'Andrew, I'm afraid that in about 10 seconds I am going to ruin your Christmas.'

'What do you mean?'

'You should really watch TV, that's what I mean.'

'What's going on, Paul?'

'Andrew… After… OK…' Paul drank. 'On the 1st November Perry Lloyd was officially found guilty of the dead of his wife Joyce.'

Bine was not blinking.

'She was found lying on the floor after a heavy fall down the stairs. She had somehow managed to break her neck, break her nose, lose a tooth, and get little, finger-sized bruises all over her back and arms. …She was also pregnant.'

Bine gulped. He turned and watched the snowflakes quietly cover the earth. He was also hoping that same earth might open and devour him.

'Honey?'

The principal turned. Mrs Bine was looking at him inquisitively.

'Honey, are you all right? Mr Townsend wants to speak to you… Paul… how are you?'

'Winona… Great, yourself?'

'Not bad either. Andrew!'

Bine turned. The cheeks, already reddened from the alcohol, fortunately prevented the pale colour of his face from being too obvious.

'Let's go.'

He did not turn to greet his old friend. For the time being he had no strength to do that.

The captain used the opportunity to go see Peter. Now more than ever he regretted the kid could not show what he was capable of at the games in August.

'…Christmas…'

'I know, me too. But… you said you loved Christmas.'

'I did, when I had my mum. Now I don't care. …Uh-oh…'

'What?'

'It's the cop...'

Peter turned in time to see Paul handing him a mini-pie.

'My treat.'

'Thanks,' said the boy shyly and held the sweet. First, it was from the adults' table, and he had no business eating it, and second – what the hell did this guy want from him? Was it because of the Lloyds?

'I didn't do nothing...'

'What?'

'I'm innocent, I haven't hurt her!' said Peter in a raised voice and stepped back. He silently looked at Max. The bulky boy gladly accepted the signal and disappeared.

Paul looked around. No, the kid _was_ talking to him.

'That's not a bust, son,' smiled Paul.

'Oh…' Peter relaxed for a moment, but only a second later his face frowned again. 'And I'm not your son!' hissed the teen.

'Of course not…' Paul bent. 'I'm sorry, just a figure of speech, I'll try to remember not to misuse it.'

Peter did not know where to look. One hand was busy with a cup of alcohol-free eggnog, the other had the little pie, and behind him it was a corner with table and barred windows. No escape!

'What do you want?'

Paul smiled and cleared his throat.

'I came to say 'Hello'… and to say how sorry I am it didn't work at the foster home.'

'Ah, that… No big deal.'

'Of course..'

'Anything else?'

'Uhm... no, not really…' Something came to his mind then. 'Do they… do they give you any presents here over Christmas?'

'Yes, small stuff, comic books, caps, baseball gloves…'

'Sounds good. What did you get?'

'A comic book.'

'Neat.'

'Not really, some pages are missing and others are glued together with chewing gum.'

Paul frowned in disgust. Before he said anything Peter spoke.

'Uhm, Mr…'

'It's Paul.'

'I can't call you _Paul_.'

'Why not?'

'I… What's your family name again?'

'It's Blaisdell.'

'OK, Mr Blaisdell… Can I ask you something? As a secret?'

'Anything.'

Peter gulped and approached.

'Uhm… uhm… this… this Christmas thing…'

'Christmas thing?'

'Yeah… Why are all the presents for? What's the big deal?'

Then it occurred to Paul that if the boy had been raised in a Shaolin temple he probably had quite different religious beliefs.

'You're a Buddhist, aren't you?'

'How did you know?' Peter looked scared.

'I'm a police captain, I know everything,' smiled Paul and cheered.

Peter did not answer. He forgot all about his question and was about to sneak out and share his pie with Max. But looking at his friend seemed to cause some reaction in his head because the boy suddenly turned, and Paul could swear there was a new glow on his face.

'Mr Blaisdell?'

'Yes? So, about Christmas…'

'Never mind that. I… uhm…' He looked at Max again, he was talking to Frankie J. 'Uhm… You… really know everything?'

'Well, I…'

'But you're a cop!'

'Even more, I'm a captain.'

Peter looked annoyed at his full hands and then back at Paul.

'Then… then you can find people, right? I remember you said so, at the talk…'

'Yes...' Paul got a serious expression. 'Do you mean a specific person?'

'Yes.'

'A relative?'

Peter laughed at the joke.

'I've no relatives.' The captain smiled bitterly. 'It's.. it's a woman…'

'OK.'

'And… I don't know her name…'

'You have to give me something.'

'But I know her family name… It's Resnoff.'

Paul was shocked. He looked at the heavy boy at the other end of the room.

'Your friend's mother?'

Peter nodded.

'She… she doesn't know Max is here. She's been wrongly accused because of his ol' man…'

'I know that, Antony Resnoff is in jail.'

'But.. do you know where she is?'

'I can find out.'

'Really? Can you?'

Paul's bewilderment was growing.

'You are actually asking me to find _your_ friend's mother?'

Peter shrugged. 'If my mother was alive perhaps I'd ask you to find her… But she's not…' The boy looked down. 'Max's mother is… they still can be together… I can never be together with my mother…'

The older man's heart was going to burst. What fate was that which left a child without a mother and then without a father, too?

The teen was still looking down when he heard a tender, but unknown voice.

'We found him.'

One of the former _Pineridge_ inmates had brought Mrs Blaisdell.

'I'm beginning to think you're avoiding me.'

'Not at all, babe. Actually, there's someone here I would like you to meet.'

Peter was ready to turn and run. But there was nowhere to go…

'Annie, this is Peter Caine. Peter, my wife Annie.'

'Hello, Peter, nice to meet you,' said the lovely woman and stretched hand.

Peter was amused that the stretched hand was quite far from where he was, and it was even more weird that the nice lady was wearing dark glasses. And it was winter. Evening. Inside a room…

'H-hi…' He finally had to leave the pie and the drink, and socialise. He could fight, and he could speak Chinese, but talk to strangers who were not trying to beat or molest him? How do you do that?!

'Are you scared of me?' Annie was amused.

'N-no...'

'Peter has just come out of a pretty troubled fostering… not by his fault,' interfered Paul. In that moment he saw such a huge amount of gratitude in the big, hazel eyes, it made him want to go and hug their scared owner.

'Oh, I'm sorry about that! Dear thing… Come here,' said the woman and approached Peter.

The boy had no idea what to do or how to behave. He let Annie come closer and take him in her arms. Already taller than the petite blonde he slightly leaned head on her shoulder. For parts of the second he felt like he wanted to remain in those arms forever; he felt safe and loved. But then the brain interfered and the boy pulled away. His body was suddenly screaming at him how awfully wrong this was.

'I've gotta go,' mumbled Peter and ran.

The drink and sweet left behind, the teen hid in his dormitory and decided not to leave until tomorrow. What did all these people think? They had their homes, and jobs, and families… What did they know of his life? Did they think that just because he was an orphan he had no dignity?

Peter did not bother turn the lights on. He sat on his bed and hugged his legs. On that evening he resolved, yet again, that he had to get out of here, out of this place and this country. Nothing kept him any longer. And once he was in China he'd go to the temple, he'd find the monks and show them.

After the destruction of his temple a lot of the monks had returned to the country where kung fu originated from. When he was strong enough to get up he started begging the few who were still around to take him with them. All of them refused, all of them betrayed him, even Master Khan, and they had been friends since Peter could remember.

That was it! He was going to complete his training, become a priest and then challenge them all. And then he would find Master Dao and kill him.

In plans about the future the boy fell sleep. Meanwhile downstairs the Blaisdells were bewildered at his violent reaction. Paul tried to explain to his wife that the child has never known motherly love, and Annie tried not to get angry. After all, what did she know about life without parents? And then again, one could argue what was worse – life in light and alone, or life surrounded by friends and family… and eternal darkness.

X

_February, 1980_

As long as the world was blissfully hibernating under the shimmer of Christmas lights there was nothing he could do. The blizzard from January did not make things better. But as soon as the streets of Sloanville started buzzing with life again, Paul Blaisdell set to work. Quite a few obstacles were on his way, though, such as Witness Protection and that darn bureaucracy.

It was going to take a while.

On an evening soon after Valentine's Paul was having another sleepless night. He startled with a sigh. Nobody was there. Was the gunshot real? He remained motionless for a minute. No, the gunshot _was_ real, but from one different reality.

The captain got up and decided a cup of warm milk should do the trick. First he made sure all of his women were warm and sound asleep. Automatically he opened the third room. It was the first on the top floor, right by the staircase. A broad room, full of light during the day, it was the only with a view of the street and the yard at the same time.

What was he expecting to find in it? Nobody was sleeping there.

Paul gulped.

Nobody had ever slept in this room.

Stubbornly fighting off the tears he entered and sat on the cold, empty bed. He could hear them, the voices.

_'Why this room?'_

_' 'Cause it overlooks the street and the yard, so I can keep an eye on you.'_

_'Are you planning to move back with your old man?'_

_'If they finally prove you're insane I may have to.'_

_'I'll get you for this, little rascal.'_

_'You have to catch me first, old man, hehe…'_

The smiling mouth sensed the salty taste of the first tears. He looked around. It was like darkness was no more, and he could see clearly. He got up and headed for the empty book shelves. The only inhabitant of the sad room was one cup. The reflection of the street lights was dancing on the shiny surface.

The cheers sounded loud in his head. He scrolled down. 'MVP of the Fall Finals', 'Best Player of the Season' and then three letters, D.P.B.

Paul held the cup like it was a baby and kissed it.

'I miss you, son… every day.'

He closed eyes tight and held the cup closer. For a minute the whole world shrunk to this room and that little piece of furniture. A minute! A minute is enough to be born, a second is enough to die.

On a winter night like this one.

Thousands of miles from home.

In a minute.

A gunshot.

Then another.

Over.

X

_March, 1980_

At the end of another over-time at the precinct Captain Blaisdell was finally preparing to go home. On the way out he stopped at the desk of a man in his mid-thirties who looked more like a math teacher than a cop.

'Well?'

'I narrowed them to these three.'

'By Murphy's Law the right one will turn out to be the third.'

'Probably.'

'OK, well… I'll start checking them… at least they all live in Greater Sloanville.'

'Anything else?'

'Yeah.'

'What?'

'Go home.'

'I'm working on this bug here…'

'That's an order, Blake!'

A sigh.

'I can't hide forever, can I?'

Paul leaned at the desk and stared threateningly at his old friend.

'She's not coming back, accept it.' Paul was breathing heavy. 'The pain, on the other hand, _will_ be coming back, learn to live with it. And finally, my friend, get up and go on with your life.'

'Is that order?'

'Absolutely.'

X

_April, 1980_

It was the second half when Paul entered the gym. A big, bright hall with two playgrounds, it was nothing like the stuffy room at the orphanage.

'And basketball it is,' he said to himself and searched the crowd. On his side of the field he spotted her, a very tall, very athletically built blond woman… pretty, too.

'That explains a few things,' he thought and approached.

'Mrs... Donovan?'

'It's Miss.'

'Even better.'

Coach Donovan examined him curiously and whistled a break. The action unnerved Paul, as well as the fact that Donovan was standing a whole head above him.

'How can I help?'

'Actually I thought that _I_ could help.'

'All right.'

'My name is Paul Blasdell, I'm a police captain.'

There was a drastic change in the mood. The woman stepped back and nervously reached for her water bottle.

'What do you want? Haven't you already done enough?'

'Miss…'

'I've told them everything, everything!'

'Miss…'

'I gave them Tony and as a reward they took my boy…'

'Samantha!'

The coach calmed.

'I am not here to take anything from you. In fact I am here to give… give what belongs to you…'

X

The arrival of the spring was always a happy event at the orphanage. It meant end of the endless days in poorly ventilated, dark dormitories, and a tad more of freedom.

Nothing had changed for the children. As usual more came in than left. After so many years of running this place Andrew Bine had enough material to write a socio-anthropological paper on the division of groups in a closed area. There were most unusual means of separation, such as criminal convictions or real orphans vs kids from broken homes. Those were usually consciously created. One, however, was a division that none of his wards was aware of, and one that never, ever changed.

From his office Bine observed them. There, in a corner were the naughty ones, those with little or no chance of fostering or adoption. Resnoff, Caine and other young hooligans were to be seen there. In the middle were the girls, the older ones mostly. To the right were the young children, always supervised and never divided, kept from the teens as well as possible. And amongst all of these were to be seen quiet, well-behaved angels that never spoke back and always did what they were told.

Those were the 'chosen' ones, and as soon as a kid got an entry in that privileged club, he or she was quickly dismissed by whatever other group they were usually hanging out with. _Chosen_ was a good word, for these kids had indeed been chosen, usually by decent childless couples, or good-hearted strangers that wanted to do something nice for some poor orphan. Simply said, these were the children that expected to leave _Pineridge_ any moment now. Subconsciously they believed that should they break any rule at all, the people who had decided to take them would give them up. So they behaved as well as humanly possible, for sheer survival's sake.

This was the precise reason why Kyle was hanging less with his gang now. His days of smoking by the fence were over at the Christmas party, when a family of teachers that have been holding few talks took an interest in him.

That evening Kyle had been one of the few well-mannered kids that braved to stay and talk to the guests. When asked what he did in his spare time Kyle had shared about his drawing, and he even showed some of his sketches. The family, a childless couple in their mid-fourties, were genuinely impressed with the neat, smart boy. They had never considered fostering until that day. After that fateful December evening they visited two times, and last month Kyle went to spend a whole weekend with them in Mane. In early March Richard McPherson officially started fostering proceedings, which were to be completed in April, May the latest. During that time Kyle had become practically invisible.

'Hey.'

'Hey,' greeted Kyle. He was sketching the blossoming trees, inwardly begging that Peter would not ask from him something he could not refuse.

'That's good.'

'Thanks, man.'

Peter did not know how to approach his friend any more. The procedure had never been so slow and pompous with him. A family would see him, talk to him, take him. Though two times fostered, he had never belonged to the 'chosen' ones, not really. In the end of the day membership in that exclusive club required also a proper family, with good income and reputation, not scumbags that counted on some free working hand and few more dollars from the state.

'How does it feel like?'

'What?'

'You know.. leaving this place.'

'I haven't left yet.'

'But you will. I… I saw you've almost emptied your locker.'

'It will save time.'

'Right. …I should go.' Peter gave up.

'I don't know, OK.'

Peter turned.

'I don't know how it feels! It's scary, and awesome, and exciting... But I'm so creeped that something will go wrong and they won't take me, and because of that I haven't slept in days.'

The young artist spoke very quickly and without lifting gaze from the paper.

'You'll be all right.'

'You think?'

'I bet.'

'Coming?'

Frankie J. had come to take Peter for their little meeting. The two boys were plotting a new escape plan together, and the fine details were always easier figured over a ciggy and a drink.

'Yeah.'

'Kyle?'

Frankie knew very well the fifteen-year old would not come but tried nonetheless. He wanted to tempt him, he wanted to see him break the rules. For no particular reason, just a teenager's way of expressing his jealousy…

'He's not coming,' said Peter and got up. 'I don't want outsiders to hear what we're talking.'

Afraid that he had insulted his oldest friend at the orphanage Peter turned to greet him. The relief when he saw the gratitude in the older boy's eyes was immense.

On their way the teens stopped to pick Max. Of them three he was the most experienced one as long as life on the outside was concerned. Though the bulky kid had decided to stay clean until his release after he turned 18, he was going to help as well as he could, including recommending them certain places and people that would help them once they were on the other side of the fence.

The memory of this day remained clear in Peter Caine's mind for the rest of his life. Every time he remembered it he tried to figure how things would have gone had they proceeded with their plan. And they were, by all means, going to do it, however Fate had other things planned.

The boys were going to split and each would take a different route to their hideout. They should have left when Peter and Frankie realised Max had not moved. He was just standing there, motionless, intently staring at the door. All Frankie saw there were the principal, the annoying cop, one supervisor and some woman he did not recognise. Peter, on the other hand, saw more.

He checked Max. The tall boy's eyes were wet.

'Max?'

Peter put arm around his shoulders but Max gently pushed it away. He made a step forward and stared even more.

'Mom?'

'What?' Frankie was not at all touched. 'Come, Pete.'

'Shhh…'

'Mommy?!'

The unknown woman next to Paul also made a step ahead. Her disbelieving eyes were trying simultaneously to devour the sight of the son she had not seen in almost 8 years and to assimilate just how much her little boy had grown. She had hands close to her heart, then very slowly and opened the palms, only a bit.

Max did not need other invitation. First he was walking fast. By the time he reached his target he was running. The moment they met Max did not even stop to look at his mother. Simply he laid head on her shoulder and held her so tight she could not breathe for a moment.

But Samantha Donovan, formerly known as Samantha Resnoff, had already stopped breathing. Time and her heart stopped the second she laid eyes on her son.

To her, a mother, Max was just this, her sweet, energetic boy. That he was a bully with police record meant nothing, she saw nothing of this. Nobody knew Max as well as she did. She would take care of course that Max never returned to his habits, and as it turned out later, once reunited with his mother the youth had no intention whatsoever in hurting anyone. The anger that drove him into life of crime had been eradicated the second his mother laid hand on his dark-blond head.

All life in the yard had silenced. Each of these children, though most would never admit it, weas seeing their dream coming true. Every single occupant of _Pineridge_ had dreamt at one point that their mother would come and take them home. Now this actually happened.

Paul Blaisdell had been moved to the core of his being. Not that he had not seen it before, but encountering orphaned children separated from their mothers in the other end of the world was completely different from seen them here, few miles from home.

The captain remembered who he was indebted to and sought the dark-haired boy. At first Peter smiled, then the more he was looking at the touching scene the more he was finding it hard to fight off the rushing tears. He was blinking frantically but they would not stop. The teen remembered how he embarrassed himself in front of everybody shortly after his arrival, there was no need to do it again.

Peter turned and ran. With all his might, he pushed his legs to the limits, and ran. Despite the fogy eyes he knew exactly where he was going. After all, on the days when he felt like an imprisoned animal, he had nothing else left but to run in the yard. It was pretty much the same thing some of us call 'jogging'. He needed it badly. The hyperactivity that had been so well kept in check by the exhausting Shaolin training was taking its toll now.

Landing by the pond, Peter held eyes very tight and stubbornly tried not to cry. When he finally looked up he was not alone.

'Hi.'

Startled at first Peter quickly dried his eyes.

'What do you want?'

'I saw you were upset…'

'You know nothing about it,' barked the teen and threw the nearest available pebble in the stagnant water.

'Peter, you're a very smart boy, but here you're finally wrong.'

It was not the time and place for Paul to lay his heart open in front of the boy. Perhaps it was never going to be. In any case, there were corners of his heart he kept hidden from everybody, even his wife. Every time he saw reunited parents and children, after a hostage situation, or after a kidnapping, or in cases like now, his heart ripped with joy and bled from pain at the same time. Because every time Paul observed how children and parents came together, every time he did his job and helped, God was rewarding and punishing him by cruelly reminding that he was **never** to be reunited with his son.

Well, if the Bible was right perhaps someday… someday….

'Big deal.'

'What?' The captain had drifted away.

'I don't care if I'm wrong…' Then Peter got up. 'And why do you care, ha? What do you want from me anyway?'

Paul also got up and approached. He was speaking quietly now.

'I just wanted to come and tell you what incredible thing you did.'

'Huh?!'

'This was the deed of a great man, Peter, don't let it go to waste.'

'Waste what?'

Paul lifted his right hand and touched his chest.

'The spirit you carry in your heart.'

The man was about to turn and leave.

'But I haven't done nothing.'

'Anything.'

'What?'

'I haven't done _anything_.'

'Whatever,' shrugged the kid. 'You found Max's mother, not me, you're the great one.'

'No, no, no… I would not have presumed to do that if it were not for your request. It was the most selfless thing I've ever seen.' Paul approached and patted the ruffled hair. 'You have the talent to help people, Peter, don't lose it.'

The teen looked at his feet. He had that tendency, particularly when the police captain was around.

'I want to help people… I mean… That's why I want to go to China… Well, wanted to…'

'Wanted?'

'I… was going to take a ship and go to China. There I'd go to the Shaolin temple and become a priest like…'

'Like your father?'

Peter nodded without looking up.

'Is that what you want?'

'I've always wanted it, to be a priest, to understand the ancient scrolls, to help people...' A shy smile crept in. 'To fight...'

'I see. What changed?'

'It's easy when you're inside the temple. But it's not how it works out in the streets.'

'No, it's not.'

'Shaolin priests are wise, and strong... and fight like nothing you've ever seen. But then there comes someone with a gun and... all of their skill means nothing anymore.'

The last few words Peter hissed. Anger was now fast replacing sorrow.

'Peter, to begin with, you don't need to go as far as China to do good and help. People in this country, in this very city, _also_ need help.' Here Peter finally looked at Paul. 'Besides, good is not achieved by fighting. That's not why Shaolin priests learn kung fu.'

'No, then why do you carry a gun?'

'Well…'

'And what's more, what do you know about Shaolin?'

'I told you I knew everything,' smiled Paul softly.

'I'm not a little boy,' snapped the teen, 'and you don't know everything!' Peter waved a finger. 'Let me tell you what _I_ know. Shaolin is all about kung fu and fighting. 'Cause if you don't show 'em you're stronger, nobody listens.'

'Who?'

'They... the bullies… the bigger and stronger ones who think that just because they're big and strong it's their right to torment the weak.'

Paul was amazed. In-between the built anger this teenager demonstrated understanding of life suited to an adult.

'Do you know why we carry the gun, kid?'

The kid shrugged.

'To defend yourself?'

'As a last resort. We carry it in case nothing else works. We know how to use it but we try not to…'

'What, if someone wants to shoot you you'll try talk him out of it?'

'I have.'

'I don't believe you.'

Paul moved.

'Why not?'

'Because it's a lie! Everything was a lie!' shouted Peter and turned and looked up. 'You lied to me!'

Wisely the captain kept quiet and observed. He suspected the boy had stored a great deal of grief that he never dealt with. It was for his own good to let them out. He saw Peter make a step to a big fir. Watching the frustrated, lonely boy made it ever harder to suppress his rising paternal instincts.

'You lied!' kept on shouting Peter. The tree paid the toll for his anger. Every word was followed by a kick, every kick was stronger than the other.

'Gentleness… does not… overcome…. strength… You lied to me!... You left me! You lied… You…'

Remembering that he was not alone, slightly embarrassed Peter turned.

Paul was gone.

'Sure, go, leave me like the others did…'

**XXX**


	5. One Chance

It had been a long day. Still shaken Paul sat at the dinner table with mind miles away from his family life.

'Well, Daddy?'

'I'm sorry, honey, what?'

'What do you think?'

'Caroline, why don't you explain it to him one more time, slowlier this time,' suggested the sagacious Annie who had already sensed that something was wrong.

'It's about the theatre group.'

'Ah…'

'Mrs Kendle said I can go, watch and help, and next September, perhaps…'

'Carol… slow down..'

'I know I'll be the youngest but Mrs Kendle said I was good at it. And next year they'll start South American dances…'

Paul giggled from his heart.

'You mean Latino-American dances…'

'Same thing. So, I thought, I could start now, and maybe in September we can find someone to pick me up…'

'Honey, we've talked about that, there's no one who can pick you up.'

'But Mom…'

'Can I go too, Daddy?'

'You'll have to wait a few years, Kel. Carol… can you combine that with ballet?'

'I can quit ballet. This group is so much more exciting!'

'All right… I'll tell you what. You can go with them 'till the end of the term…'

'Yaaay! …Sorry!'

'…and if you still want to join next year, we'll see what we can do about it. Who knows, I may even find someone to pick you up after all…'

'Who?'

'Shhh, enough on that know, eat your vegetables.'

'I wanna go, too…' pouted nearly-eight-year old Kelly.

X

Two hours later the youngest members of the Blaisdell household were finally in bed. Paul poured two glasses of sherry and found his wife in the living room.

'Care for some company?'

'Please.'

Annie was the one who broke the awkward silence.

'So what is it, something at work, or at the orphanage?'

'What makes you think it's the orphanage?'

'Ever since you started going there you've been absent-minded and secretive.' Paul tried to object but Annie did not allow interference. 'I also don't remember you spending so much time in Danny's room.'

'But how…'

'Don't talk to me like I'm blind, Paul Blaisdell!'

'Never crossed my mind… Do you want to hear about my day?'

'Of course.'

'I have been trying to find a woman for quite a while. Today I finally found her and took her to the orphanage… where she was reunited with the son that had been taken away from her 8 years ago.'

'Good Lord… Paul! You should have told me!' Annie searched for her husband's warm hand. 'I had no idea you were doing that…'

'I were not. If all cops got into tracking long-lost parents there would be no one left to catch the bad guys.'

'Then this was an exception?'

'Annie, do you remember the Christmas party at the orphanage?'

'Yes?'

'I introduced you to one of the pupils… A fourteen-year old boy..'

'Yes, Peter something…'

'Peter Caine, yeah. He… has a friend, a very troubled boy from a broken home. And because of something I had said at one my lectures Peter asked me if I could not help..'

'What has that got to do with the woman you found?'

'Just this – I tracked her because Peter asked me to. Her lost son was his friend.'

Annie stood.

'For his friend... Why?.. I mean…'

'He could have asked me anything for himself, but he didn't…' Paul shook head. 'Annie, if only you knew him… He's different… Kind-hearted,' Paul chuckled. 'And ill-mannered… No sport can challenge him, a born winner. …Remarkable child…'

Paul did not need say anything else. Annie knew, understood, and accepted. Probably Paul did not know himself as well as she did, or maybe never realised how transparent he actually was to her.

The excitement with the captain was growing. This has been something he carefully kept from his wife, simply because he did not know if it was going to turn into _something_ or not. After today, however, he knew.

In the following minutes Annie got to hear Peter Caine's story as Paul knew it. About his incredible childhood, how he turned Max around, how good a runner he was… In the end of it Mrs Blaisdell was moved and amazed at once.

'You know… Now more than ever I regret that he bailed on me like that at the party. I would have loved to know him better.'

'I think I can understand him. Considering his circumstances and upbringing I don't think he has ever been hugged by a woman.'

'Poor thing…'

'Andrew said he was friend with their psychiatrist, that she was the only person allowed to come any close to him.'

'I met no psychiatrist at the party…'

'She quit, 6 months after Peter's arrival, budget cuts.'

'Of course, money…'

'Annie… Annie, I want to do something for this boy.'

'I know,' smiled Annie. 'Do you have anything in mind?'

'I'm not too sure yet. I have to be careful. He's like a frightened, wild animal – one hasty step and he'll hide.' For a moment the steel-blue eyes got lost into the darkness outside.

'Honey, I'll support you. Whatever you decide, I'm behind.'

'Glad I can count on you. It feels much better,' said Paul and kissed his wife. He prepared to get up and head to bed when Annie stopped him.

'Just one thing, Paul.'

'Yes?'

'You have come to care about this boy, haven't you?'

'I'm an open book to you,' he chuckled.

'Good. Because, babe, I'd support you at anything… As long as you make sure you're doing it for the right reason.'

X

Paul had called he would be late for work. He needed give no explanation; that was one of the great things about being the Captain.

The car pulled not far from a small hill. It was still very early and the only witnesses to his little visit were the cheerful birds, hailing the arrival of spring and of yet another sunny day.

A beautiful spot, detached from the others, it was on a high ground and offered stunning view to the valley that somewhere in the north transformed into the giant gorge where the bustling rage of the Niagara met with the peaceful waters of the lake Ontario.

'I found you a nice spot, don't you think? You've always been into nice vistas,' smiled Paul and smelled the bouquet of spring flowers before placing it by the lonely grave slab.

'Well… Time passes quickly, doesn't it?' He took his hat off and sat by the grave. 'Not much to talk about since the last time we spoke. Guess I'm too fussy, as usual,' chuckled the captain.

Paul took a breath of fresh, spring air and continued.

'The girls are growing faster than I can bear. Before I know it I'll be taking some of them down the aisle. And you were right, it's a great luck that I'm carrying a gun, I have the feeling there will be a queue of admirers to scare away.'

He gulped.

'It would be great to have someone help me… you know, keep the girls save when I'm not around… You've always thought that you'd be that person… as did I…'

'If only I knew if it were true, are the dead really watching over their loved ones? Or they just move on to the next life?' He turned at the slab. 'Do you know what I am thinking? Can you guess what I want to do? Are you going to hate me, son?'

No sound but a gentle gush of wind passed from the aging face. Paul hugged the stone and leaned head on its soulless surface.

'Annie was right, I don't know if I'm doing it for the right reason. I can't deny the abyss in my heart after you left me. And then again, this boy, he… he stands out so much from everyone else, I doubt he'd manage on his own out there. He touched something, Dan.'

A tear slid down.

'I want to protect him. This boy has the credentials to become a great man and I want to help him. What do you think? … No, no one can replace you, son, but I can't lie to you – I _do_ need a son… And God knows, this child needs a father…'

Strange sound had the necessary sobering effect on the captain. He heard something rolling down the gravel and all of a sudden a basketball appeared at his feet.

Paul picked it and played a bit. Then he turned to the grave stone.

'I've always liked your sense of humour.'

A minute later a man, a woman, and a little boy appeared. The boy ran to Paul and suspiciously inspected him.

'Can I have my ball?'

Without a word Paul gave the ball back to its owner. The two adults were just passing and respectfully nodded at him, realising they were interrupting a special moment. The boy had disappeared down the road.

'Danny!' The man was running. 'Stay right there, young man!'

This time Paul looked at the cloudless sky.

'Yours too.'

X

The last few weeks have been fairly uneventful. With the exception of Max's fortunate reunion, nothing else worth talking about occurred in _Pineridge_.

Peter had not messed in anything worth punishment. On his way to the Principal's office he was trying to recollect if there was something against him. He could not know about the escape plan… could he?

The voices could be heard from the outside. Peter did not hurry to press the handle. First, he recognised Captain Blaisdell's voice. Second, he could swear they were talking about him.

'…don't understand why you're doing it.'

'It's tough to explain. Let's put it like this – I simply want, Andrew, I want to do this for Peter.'

'You'll get trouble on your head.'

'Can't be worse than the trouble I'm dealing with on a daily basis.'

Bine was about to say something when they heard a knock.

'Nice, he never knocks. …Come in, Peter.'

Peter entered unusually quiet. He greeted the Captain and obediently stood by the desk.

'Is he sick?'

'No, he's wondering what's going on,' grinned Bine. 'Captain Blaisdell is here to see you.'

Peter shrugged. 'Have I done somethin?'

The two men chuckled.

'I told you, he constantly thinks he's being watched, spied on, or busted.'

'Those are life-saving qualities for every cop,' confirmed Blaisdell and winked at the kid. 'How have you been, Peter?'

'The same.'

'Right.' The principal knew it when three was a crowd. 'I have some… principal-ly stuff to do, so I'll leave you two boys alone. Paul, I'll count on you to find my office whole. Peter… behave yourself!'

'But I always do.'

'Yeah, yeah.'

Finally left alone, Paul pulled a stool and invited his young friend.

'I thought you'd left,' mumbled Peter without looking at the older man.

'I went home.'

'No, I mean… You know… _left_!' At this age the teen had more feelings and emotions running through his growing body than ever before. They were so many, and so overwhelming, that he often failed to find the words.

Paul shook head.

'No, kid, I'm not of the leaving kind. I'm right where I have to be... Whenever and wherever I'm needed.'

The boy finally looked.

'I don't understand.'

'Peter… After what you did for your friend I've been thinking…'

Peter gulped.

'I believe, you haven't been thanked properly yet.'

'What for?'

'Come on, work with me.'

'Max is with his mother, anyway.'

'Well… I thought that since you're a hero, though you may not admit it, you need some sort of reward.'

'What?'

'Let me see… How about if tomorrow I took you out?'

Peter's heart skipped a beat.

'Out?'

'Yeah.'

'T-tomorrow?'

'Would you prefer other day?'

'N-no, no, tomorrow's fine.'

The young hazel eyes were staring at the ground again.

'What is it?'

'I don't get it. Why me? Why now? It doesn't make sense. Why are you doing this? Is this charity? Do you feel sorry for me? Do you…'

'Peter! …Remember to breathe.' Paul leaned and grabbed the teenager's trembling hands. 'I'm not doing it out of charity, nor because I pity you... You don't trust me do, you?'

'No… I… I don't get it why someone would want to bother with me. You've heard the principal, I'm not worth it.'

'The principal doesn't really think so. He just… does not understand you the way I do.'

The youth's eyes finally met Paul's piercing blue gaze.

'Well, I'm not sure I'm worth it, either,' said the boy and pulled his hands. 'I don't think I should go anywhere, will save me some time… and more disappointment.'

Here Paul finally saw the end of his patience. His voice got heavier; every syllable demanded attention.

'Peter, now you're going to listen to me. You don't trust anyone and you're right not to. It's instinct based on experience, and someday it may save your life. But you must remember, kid, in life not everyone is bad; not everyone is trying to hurt you. Sometimes you'll meet people who actually want to help you, for real, no strings attached. However those chances won't be many, and they won't be there forever. If you hide behind this wall of yours you may remain safe, but you'll remain also alone. This is one such chance, Peter, take it.'

After a short pause Peter uttered something.

'Will you buy me a hot-dog?'

'What?'

'A hot-dog? I've no money. …One with everything…' repeated the boy and grinned.

Paul laughed out loud.

'I'll buy even Coke, if you want.'

The hazel eyes glittered.

'Awesome! I've never had Coke.'

'You're joking.'

The eyes darkened.

'My father used to say it's not healthy… nor is hot-dog…'

'Oh, come on… Lighten up,' winked Paul. 'When do you usually get up?'

'For breakfast…But, I don't have no problem with getting up early.'

The older man's palm covered his eyes.

'Were you talking this bad in the temple?'

'No, but here everybody talks like that.'

'I see. What was that with the early getting up?'

'At the temple we used to get up at 4 am, so…'

'All right, I'll pick you up at 9… ish. How's that?'

'It's good,' said Peter quietly and smiled as shy as he could.

The captain stretched hand. His young friend took it and their meeting tomorrow was now a proper gentlemen's agreement.

X

Peter knew the common reaction would be to feel happy, or at least excited. Instead he was confused, scared even. This came in the worst of moments. What was he to do? He would have to choose – to go with the Captain and betray Frankie, or do as planned and bail on a day that would probably turn out to be a complete waste of time.

Deep in thought he did not notice Kyle passing him by. The older boy was collecting the last of his belongings from the locker.

'Hey!'

'Kyle, what's up?'

'How did it go with the Principal?'

'How did you know?' asked Peter unnerved.

'I saw you…'

'Oh…'

Peter looked around him like a cautious cat afraid it might be lured into a trap.

'Let's go to your bed.'

The two friends headed for the empty dormitory. On a gorgeous day like this you had to have a really good reason to remain indoors.

Negligently Kyle threw few ruffled sketch pads on the bed and sat. Peter joined him but without looking at him; his eyes were fixated at the distance, his brain trying to count through all possible outcomes, all pros and cons.

'Well?'

….

'Peter!'

'Ah… Uhm… It was weird. The police captain was there.'

'Jeez, Pete, what have you done again?'

'Nothing! He… he wants me to spend a day with him,' said Peter and felt guilty. Why? He had no idea. But he felt guilty, like it was all wrong.

Kyle could not share the mood. He grew excited.

'Man, do you know what this means?!'

'No idea, man.'

'You're almost out of here, Pete!'

The hazel eyes stared at Kyle anxiously.

'What are you talking about?'

'This man may be your ticket to normal life, that's what I'm talking about. You know, house in the suburbs, white fence, swing in the back yard… The nonsense each the shaggiest street rascal is secretly dreaming of.'

'Are you getting any of that nonsense?'

'Apart from the fence, ours is wood-brown,' smiled Kyle.

'Look, I don't think it's gonna be that easy…'

'Pete, you only listen to me, and you'll be sleeping in your own room before you know it.'

'And what do you have to say?'

'First, do _not_ be yourself.' Peter frowned. 'Be obedient, be quiet, and never object. Forget about having an opinion – unless specifically asked about it. Remember, the potential foster parent is always right. Just… just do whatever he says.'

'It's a day in the city, Kyle, not a boot camp.'

'You better treat it like one. An important bit – do not let the captain buy you stuff.'

'You want me to starve?'

'Not food, you, dope. I mean stuff – new snickers, comic books, clothes… Never!'

'Why?'

'It's a trap. He will want to see how much you're gonna cost him if he takes you, so keep your head down. If you take him on a shopping spree it will be 'good-bye little house in the suburbs'. If he wants to spend his money on you, that's his problem, but you refuse till the end. That clear?'

'Clear.'

'Good. Another thing – no more drinking and smoking. If they catch you, chances are you'll be eating orphanage food in less than 24 hours; you can return to those on your 18th birthday. And the most important, whatever happens, keep calm! Under any circumstances do _not_ get annoyed and show that fiery temper of yours.'

'But…'

'A-a, ever! When you're all 18, in college or working, go berserk if you like. 'Till then, my friend, you have got to be ve-e-ry careful.'

'Ehm… Kyle… The captain has already seen my temper.'

Kyle stood with mouth half-open.

'Are you serious?'

'Yeah, he saw me shout and kick one tree down by the pond.'

'You're telling me that the man knows you're crazy and still wants to take you for a day out?'

'It's weird, isn't i?'

Patronisingly Kyle hugged the taller boy.

'My friend, congratulations, you're officially out, it's confirmed.'

'Nonsense,' smiled Peter and looked down again.

'I'm telling you, you're set, done. Your only issue from now on would be to hide as well as you can your weirdness. I mean, I like it, don't get me wrong, but you'll have hard time on the outside with it.'

'What do you mean?'

'Come on, you know, the Chinese stuff, the kung fu mumbo-jumbo… This is certain to earn you a couple of bullies.

'No one can bully me, Kyle!'

'Of course, of course, but it won't make you King of the Prom either. So, try not to show it around too much. Now, I don't know what we'll do with you not being a Christian, though…'

'Paul… Mr Blaisdell knows I'm a Buddhist.'

'First, don't rush into calling him _Paul_, move in first. Second, if he knows, that's great. Just don't brag about it, people on the outside don't like the different.'

'So, if I stay at the orphanage I'm screwed, if he takes me in – I'm screwed again.'

'Pete, just the fact that you're an orphan is enough. People from decent families with decent jobs don't like their decent offspring to have anything to do with us, potential criminals and junkies.'

'Is it the same with you?'

'Of course. But I don't care. The trick is – blend in as well as you can, and wait. As time passes things will begin to settle. Very soon you'll be 18, and in the world of the adults it doesn't matter if you're orphan. In fact,' Kyle grinned. 'At the Christmas party one of the former pupils told me he was a hit in College. Turns out, girls love orphans, you know, because they've made it on their own and blah-blah.'

'How am I going to blend in?'

'Copy others, you can't go wrong. Whatever is popular and in fashion –do it. You'll be all right.'

'You're right, it's scary and exciting at the same time.'

'Told you. …Hey, think you'll become a cop, too.'

'Hold on, man, hold on – I haven't left the orphanage yet. …I don't know, haven't thought of me as a cop.'

Kyle closed his eyes a bit.

'We'll see…'

The lunch bell marked the end of their talk. The two boys headed downstairs. After that Kyle had luggage to fix, and Peter – an important decision to make.

X

Without having eaten almost anything Peter headed for the hideout. Frankie was already there, smoking and having a drink.

'Want some?'

This is how Peter learned why the grown-ups always smoked or drank when they were nervous. He gladly accepted the drink and pulled a cigarette from his own stash.

'I didn't see you eat.'

'When?'

'Now. We may go for more than a day without food, it's not time for diet.'

'It's not my first escape, Frankie,' replied Peter coldly. 'Besides I was not hungry.'

'Whatever,' exhaled the other boy. 'Have you decided what you're taking with you?'

'My dagger, that's all I want.'

'Do you know where they keep it?'

'Yup.'

'Good, but you're on your own there.'

'I know.'

'OK… I've packed few clothes… We've got cigarettes for a week so that's set… Any money?'

'Nope.'

'Never mind, we may have to sell the dagger though.'

Without a notice Peter jumped on top of his astonished ally.

'Don't _eve_r think about that, do you understand?'

'All right, all right… Jeez, man…'

Peter returned to his seat, had a big sip of beer and kept smoking. Frankie wanted to consider himself the leader of their duo but truth was, no one was really the leader when Peter Caine was around.

At last Frankie noticed the weird expression on Peter's face. He seemed to be miles away from there, moreover he was not nearly as chatty as before.

'Besides the dagger… What's wrong?'

'Nothing. …OK, it's something…'

Peter took a second fag.

'What… what do we do once we're out of here?'

'We'll find jobs, then places to live… We've talked through all that. We'll be free, man, no one will be able to tell us what to do ever again.'

'Really? Tell that to your future boss.'

Peter was playing with the grass at his feet. He did not seem to care the least about their plans.

'You know what… You've changed. I don't think you care about this as much as I do.'

'Perhaps I don't.'

'What! You prefer to stay in _Pineridge_? You think you'll have more when Bine kicks you outta he'e the day after you turn 18?'

Completely untouched by the older boy's outburst Peter finished his smoke and prepared to leave.

'No, I don't think staying here will be better. But running way won't make any difference either. In fact, outside may be even worse.'

'So you're bailing on me? …Coward!'

Peter was going to show him how wrong he was but then remembered Kyle's advice about his temper, so he remained put.

'Good luck out there, Frankie,' he said and gave the boy his pack of cigarettes. 'There, you'll need those more than me.'

Frankie J. had never said 'no' smokes in his young life. Reluctantly he took the offered pack but refused the offered hand. Peter shrugged and left without turning back.

X

The events of the day provided for a sleepless night. It was about 1 am when Peter heard his former friend sneak out of bed. He was possessed by the uncontrollable urge to stop him; he wanted badly to try and convince him not to go.

When he finally jumped Frankie was gone. Barefoot Peter ran from the same safe corridors he had earlier planned to take for his escape. Minutes later all he found at the place of the planned escape were Frankie's chip, the pliers he had used to cut through the fence… and a pack of cigarettes. Thanks to the cop series he was watching on the black-and-white TV, Peter knew about finger prints and evidence. Carefully he moved away.

For the second time today he turned back on that place, only that after he turned now what awaited him there drained the blood from his face.

'Hello, Peter!'

It looked like Principal Bine had not been in bed at all. Still in his costume he was gravely examining the barefoot boy in pyjamas.

'H-hi!'

'Looks like you missed your flight.'

'N-no… You knew about it?'

'Of course I knew, I'm not a rookie. The only thing I didn't know was the exact spot,' fumed Bine. '…That's an odd way to dress for life in the streets.'

'I…'

'You were supposed to be with him, weren't you?'

Peter nodded.

'But you bailed on him.'

'I betrayed him.'

Bine chuckled. 'Kid, there are far worse things in life than deciding to stay safe while others jump in the stormy sea. You're yet to find out the true meaning of the word _betrayal_.'

'I… I ran after him, I wanted to stop him.'

'Very kind.'

'I should have told you, I'm sorry.'

'Nah, now _that_ would have been a betrayal. Peter?'

The scared kid lifted eyes.

'You took the right decision, you acted mature. And as long as you're in bed in 5 minutes, I'll let this one slide. And do you know why?'

Peter shook head.

'Opposite to what you may think, I have faith in you, kid; I always have. I want you to make something out of yourself and for once you've got the right man to help you do it.'

The edge of the teen's mouth curved in a half-smile.

'Now go.'

Peter ran, this time in the right direction, finally feeling enthusiastic about the following day.

**XXX**


	6. Beginning Is Never Easy

It was his only day off this week but Captain Paul Blaisdell was looking forward to it. He did not consider it a 'good deed' as his Chief of detectives had called it when he shared. It was… like to plant a seed. Paul actually laughed at his Eastern-like metaphor. He dearly hoped he would see it grow; after all, he already cared about it.

Once in _Pineridge_ Paul was told he could find Peter in the yard. Unsurprisingly the boy was by the pond. He was doing something Paul was not accustomed to seeing every day. Those were directed moves of hands and feet that made the body look like moving in a tender harmony, easily fitting with the nature around.

Peter's moves though beautiful, most of them, somehow felt out of tune. Inevitably the boy stopped and kicked annoyed in the air. This was when Paul made his presence known, just in time to prevent another hissy fit.

Abashed Peter stopped and nervously looked at his feet.

'Good morning.'

'Mornin'.'

'What happened?'

'Nothing,' hastily replied Peter, picked his jacket from the wet grass and made it evident he was ready to head for the door.

'Hold on.'

Peter froze.

'Peter, if things between us are going to work, you'll have to trust me.' Paul took the boy's chin and turned his face right opposite his. 'If something doesn't work, or simply bothers you, it is always better if you share, better for you, better for those around you. Do you know why?'

'No, sir.'

'Because at one point all the disappointment you hide will need to go out on the surface, and it's usually those around you who are baring the consequences.'

'I was practicing tiger form it didn't really work 'cause I've forgotten some parts and made me angry.'

Peter blurted is so fast it took Paul few confused blinks to comprehend what the teen had just told him. Afterwards it became pretty obvious that if the cop wanted, in that moment he could extract pretty much all of the boy's secrets. Cop for not such a long time, Paul Blaisdell was well-acquainted with methods of… extracting information, just it usually took more effort… and violence…

'Let's go,' commanded Blaisdell and carefully hugged the boy, not too close however. For the time it took them to leave the orphanage and enter the car, Peter's eyes remained firmly fixated onto his shoes.

X

At last in the car Peter dared look around. The idea of the damp, old building with barred windows remaining behind made him feel like he wanted to rip out of joy. But with Kyle's advices upon him the teen made sure all emotions were kept well in check.

'So, why are you so nervous?'

Peter turned abruptly.

'I'm not.'

Paul sighed. 'Another thing I don't like is lies.'

The boy sighed.

'I'm scared I might say or do something wrong.' Things had already started bad, at least he could be honest.

'Peter… this is not an exam, we're supposed to have fun today. Relax.'

'I can't.'

'Why?!'

'If I do I'll start acting like myself, I don't want that.'

Blaisdell's confusion was growing. At the first lights the captain took the initiative.

'I've got the feeling someone has been filling your head with nonsense.'

'Just... advices…'

'Like 'not to be yourself'? Peter, the main reason we're out today is so that we get to know each other better. That won't happen if you pretend to be someone you're not; besides, there's little of you I haven't seen.'

'It's green.'

'What? Oh…'

'So… I can… talk?'

'Yes.'

'And… express my opinion?'

'Jesus… Of course.'

'What if it's different than yours?'

'Even better,' shook head Paul. 'Peter, in life it's extremely important to stand up for yourself. You may be wrong, you may be right, what matters is to defend your position with valid arguments. Do you understand?'

'Perfectly.'

'Great.'

'But… What if you keep insisting and you turn out to be so wrong and everything goes to hell?'

'The trick is, kid, to know the difference between 'standing up for yourself' and 'donkey stubbornness'.'

Peter giggled.

'How do you do that?'

'Nah, you'll have to live and see for yourself. There's no exact recipe for that. If you're smart, and if you have respect for your fellow man, you'll know.'

Paul used the chance of another lights to check on his travel buddy. The young face had taken colour, the eyes were glittering in the way that only children's eyes can, and in general Peter was much livelier than when they started.

'I'll try to remember that.'

'Do. …Now, what's our first stop?'

'I don't know.'

'Anything specific you want to see?'

'I don't know what there is to see.'

'Well… What if we start with a walk downtown? Just start off with the buzz of the big city.'

The eyes opened wider.

'I'm in.'

X

They did not get to walk as much as Paul had expected. Peter was so amazed with the gigantic skyscrapers and the bustling streets that he simply stood there and stared.

'You'll eat some bug,' teased Paul.

'It's awesome.'

The duo was lucky to catch the last day of a superhero-con which left Peter at the end of his wits. He lusted after at least a dozen of the comic books, and the little pewter figurines made his eyes wet.

'Do you want something?'

At once sobered up the boy anxiously shook head and moved on. He thought he had relaxed too much and steadily headed for the exit.

'Leaving so soon?'

'Y-yes, we better, we've been here long enough.'

'OK, give me a second.'

Peter ran out and tried to remember the teachings form the temple. For the greater part of his life he had been taught that material possessions are not necessary for the soul to be enlightened. Materialism, he had read, was the cause of greed, and greed was the cause of wars and other crimes. No, he could do without comic books or figurines; they were not necessary for his well-being.

When Paul came out he had a shiny, black plastic bag. Peter checked it with suspicion but quickly decided it was none of his business and forgot about it.

'Now, I'm getting hungry, are you?'

'I think so…'

'OK… Let see… Who's got nice hot dog…'

Peter livened up again. He remembered!

'Have you ever played bowling?'

'No…'

'Do you want to learn?'

'Hell yeah!'

With a broad smile Paul shook head and led the way to the nearest bowling centre. He had forgotten the greatness about being a kid, discovering the world, still finding it all fresh and exciting. The captain had always admired people who managed to remain that way throughout their adult lives.

'You know, I thought you had some experience with big cities.'

Peter looked down all embarrassed.

'Not so much…'

'Hey, hey…' Paul came closer and hugged the boy. 'It's all right, Peter, I was just trying to learn something about you. Many people have never been to a big city… In fact, a lot avoid it on purpose.'

Yes, he knew that, he had been raised in a temple full of such people…

'I… I've been to San Francisco…'

'There you go.'

'But only some parts, by the sea, some parks... My father wanted to avoid the centre and... other areas, I don't know why.'

'Have you seen the bridge?'

'Yes, we went there for my 12th birthday.'

They young heart ached at the memory. It had been the last trip out of the temple grounds for father and son Caine.

Paul cursed quietly for bringing the topic and also noted that the life-before-the-orphanage topic was still a difficult one for the teenager; he had to be very cautious with it for the future.

'Here we are.'

Fortunately the bowling centre was close enough and pulled the pair out of an uncomfortable situation.

The place was fairly full; apparently many of the con-attenders were having lunch here.

'Great, we can nest in the corner, we won't be bothered.'

Paul bought two games, ordered the shoes, got amazed at Peter's oversized feet and even more astonished that without his snickers the kid was still nearly as tall as he was.

'Let's go eat.'

Peter was marvelling every bit of the noisy, colourful place. He went with Paul to pick their lunch.

'Make me one with everything,' ordered the captain. Behind him Peter giggled.

'What's so funny?'

'I remembered one Buddhist joke.'

'A Buddhist joke? Oh, dear…' Only the idea seemed hilarious. For himself he ordered one without mayo, and also took big fries and two iced colas.

When he saw how hungry the teenager attacked their little feast Paul realised that this joke-of-a-food was probably the most nutritious thing the boy had eaten in months. The hot-dog practically evaporated in front of his very eyes.

'Do you want one more?'

'Oh, no, no… no… That's enough,' shyly replied the youth and stretched for a fry.

The paper plate, however, slipped away from him.

'What did I say about lying?'

'But…'

'Peter, you're a growing young man. Now your body needs more calories than it ever will, and, considering the baggy clothes on your back, I don't think you're often complaining of over-eating.'

'The nurse once said I had fast meta… lism?'

'Metabolism.'

'Yeah.'

The fries were returned to Peter and five minutes later another steaming portion of hot-dog landed in front of him.

X

A couple of hours passed unnoticed, the two friends just had too much fun. Paul was more than pleased to see his young friend relax and finally enjoy himself. The captain gladly found out that the usually grumpy boy had a beautiful smile and witty sense of humour. Peter, on the other hand, discovered that the seemingly stern cop was actually fun to be with. Despite all warnings the young man completely left the guard down; consciously or not he was asking more and more questions about Paul's work, he even asked what kind of fighting cadets from the Academy were trained.

Those two hours turned out to be the first time in year and a half that Peter Caine had been acting like himself – calm, energetic, and curious. He took full advantage of the fact that again, at least for a day, he had someone who patiently answered his numerous questions.

'Are you sure you've never played?'

'Absolutely,' said Peter and grinned victoriously.

It took the kid few throws to get the hack of the game and by the end Paul had been completely humiliated.

'We should have played for a prise,' teased Peter.

'With you? Never!' uttered Paul and gently pushed his young friend. Peter giggled and playfully challenged the captain to try it again.

The duo left the bowling place laughing. Paul was already thinking about their next stop.

'Hey, do you want to check my precinct?'

'Sure,' shrugged the kid.

'Police precincts not too interesting for you?'

Realising it was not the right time to boast with his experiences of a young criminal, Peter decided to play it enthusiastic. 'No, really, I want to see it. Let's go.' The youth rushed ahead but then stopped and blushed. 'Where's the car again?'

Paul laughed out loud and hugged the boy, pulling him in the opposite direction he had first headed in.

'Over there…'

Blaisdell had left a potential precinct visit as a reserve, but Peter was behaving so well, he just could not resist it. Besides, seeing the enthusiasm in those huge hazel eyes was worth it.

'Where is your precinct,' asked Peter noticing that they were headed for a completely different direction.'

'It's 101st, we're in charge of Chinatown.'

'Oh…'

'Anything wrong?'

'No… I didn't know there was a Chinatown here.'

'Of course there is. In fact, it's one of the biggest in the country.'

'Bigger than the one in San Francisco?'

'I'm not sure but it's possible.'

'Wow. ..But…'

'What?'

'I don't understand the thing with precincts…'

'Oh, believe me, many of us don't,' bitterly smiled Paul. 'Still, it makes things easier. It's like being waiter in a huge restaurant, where you're responsible, fortunately, for only some of the tables.'

'But... What if a crime happens while you're in a different precinct?'

'Well, you're always welcome to help. Now, we also have something called Metro Division. I like to say that this is the gang of cops who find their precincts too small?'

'What?'

Paul chuckled. 'These are officers with jurisdiction in all precincts, the whole city. In short, they don't need to waste time bothering with the local precinct to conduct an arrest.'

'This is so cool.'

'I thought you'd like it.'

Peter forgot everything about Sloanville's precinct arrangement when he saw the first red lanterns. His heart jumped; he felt like he was coming home.

Inevitably Paul noticed that the boy suddenly got quiet. He got worried that coming here might trigger painful memories but it was for nothing. Peter was not sad, he looked zealous.

'Wow, antique shop!'

'Where?'

'Over there. I love Chinese antique shops, they're the best places to learn history.' _Now_ the shadow of sadness passed.

Paul looked in the direction Peter pointed at but all he saw was a line of stores named with incomprehensible Chinese signs.

'You can read those?'

'Some. Many I don't remember and others… I didn't have time to learn…'

'So you speak Chinese?'

Peter sighed annoyed. 'There's no such thing as Chinese! …And I speak Mandarin… and a bit of Cantonese. But there are dialects most people have not even heard of.'

Paul was impressed.

'You're full of surprised, Peter Caine.'

Still unaware of his prophetic words Paul had to slow down.

'What's happening?'

'Trouble, that's what.'

First, Captain Blaisdell saw the crowd. Immediately his eyes transferred to the oddly parked cars, one of which belonged to one of his top detectives.

Aiming not to attract too much attention, Paul parked regularly few cars behind. Peter got the goose bumps when he saw the older man check his gun.

'I'm making sure it's loaded and functioning,' replied Paul calmly when he saw the boy's look.

'Now, listen to me very carefully.' Peter stopped breathing. 'It may be nothing, but then again, it may be not. I'll go out and lock the car, it can still be opened form the inside. You are to stay here and don't even think to leave! Is that clear?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. If you hear even one gun-shot you get down and stay there until I come back. Understood?'

'Yes, sir.'

Paul forced a half-smile and playfully ruffled the dark, wavy hair. Then he left. Peter did not even take the belt off, so frightened he was. Finally he became aware of part of police work the captain never mentioned during his talks at the orphanage – the danger. The ever-present dark angel, riding along each and every cop; it was always there, by the side of even the most experienced ones.

Scared and mesmerized Peter followed the older man. It was beyond him how he actually had the courage to get out there and walk straight into the lion's den.

The boy lost Paul off his sight but heard voices. Curiosity took the better of him and he slowly opened the window, just enough to hear the bustle outside.

'…still in there?'

That was Paul's voice!

'…Don't know, Captain…'

Peter was trying to make sense of the place they were. It was a broad street. They were parked on the left side. First there was a line of 4 stores, then a tiny alley, and further - another line of stores; that was where Paul went.

Despite the long break from training, the young Caine's senses were still heightened, more so than he alone realised. In the distance police sirens were approaching. In proximity, however, what was approaching were two women. A strange feel of imminent danger and death grasped the young heart. The carefree laughter attracted his attention. In the meantime he sensed more people approaching.

From the opposite side the sound of running feet blended with the ever closer sirens. And then there he came.

The side street was close enough for Peter to see a man coming, a well-built man with deep scar on the face, running with all his might. There was no place for him to go but straight. The whole sidewalk had been laid with parked cars; he was moving too fast to cross them.

Realising the urgency of the situation Peter turned again. The two women had stopped and were checking the vitrine of the corner store. The taller woman, the one standing closer to the running man, felt weird, like she possessed the chi of two and not one person.

'No!'

A gunshot.

The women turned.

The man never stopped, he was closer now.

Instincts and the deep desire to protect took over Peter. All fear gone, the boy unlocked the belt and opened the door. Swiftly and without a sound he jumped on the front of the car and bent.

The frightened women were hiding into each other's arms and still remained completely unaware of the real danger.

The man crossed Peter's sight. With precision down to parts of the second the former Shaolin trainee stood and jumped with one leg ahead; all of his attention was into that leg.

The flying kick found the man's chest and left arm. It was so powerful that he flew all the way to the opposite all, fortunately missing a glass vitrine by inches.

From then on everything became one big mess.

Peter was pushed to the side by an angry hand. He saw one massive man with short hair cuff the barely-conscious thug. Another man was telling him something and in the meantime Paul was with the two women.

The orphan was petrified. Too scared to move or talk he was observing the events and waited. Next time he turned to Paul the man was glaring at him with unabashed severity.

'You get in the car,' almost roared the captain, so strong that Peter startled.

The boy ran inside, closed the window and even locked the belt. He was quickly realising the seriousness of what he just did and the inevitable consequences it was going to have on him.

At that moment the overloaded memory recollected images from minutes ago, one including the curious, mainly Chinese, crowd observing from across. Amongst them was a little old man, right there, by a shiny 'Stop' sign.

Peter snapped.

'This can't be…' he mumbled and frantically searched the dispersing crowd. No, he was gone, he had to be, but the resemblance… The man he saw had hair and beard but…

'No, it can't be!'

There was no one by the sign. Slowly getting rid of the impossible idea Peter concentrated on the events near him.

Right next to the car stood Paul, shouting at a man whose face remained hidden.

'….so that I don't need to get a teenager do your job!'

'I know, Captain, we…'

'We'll talk in my office, Epstein. Take your ward and head for the precinct!'

'Yes, Captain.'

Here Paul opened the door and aggressively entered inside; Peter actually shuddered. For a second or two the cop held onto the wheel with closed eyes. He was breathing heavy.

At last the eyes opened and the key entered the ignition.

'You want to see the precinct? You'll see the precinct.'

'Th-that's all right, you don't need to…'

Paul exploded.

'All right? All right?! Do you know what could have happened? Do you – even – realise how your reckless stunt could have ended?'

'He was not armed,' barely audible uttered Peter.

'I can't believe my ears… You could have been killed!' cried out Paul. 'A child in my care dies, do you know what happens after that?'

Peter shook head.

'Everything I've worked for goes to hell, that's what happens.'

'..was going to… th' wom…'

'What? At least speak up!'

Peter gulped. 'He was going to hit the women. The taller one, she was pregnant, I couldn't allow that to happen.'

Unbelieving the captain turned. The women were being taken for statements but re remembered well, both were fit and with flat bellied.

'Where did that come from? Making things up to get out of trouble?'

'N-no!'

Annoyed Paul started the engine.

'None of them was pregnant, kid, I'm quite certain.'

**XXX**


	7. To Make You Proud

The precinct was not much unlike a bee hive - constant buzzing and seemingly aimless wandering of detectives and uniforms, with few men with handcuffs in between. Peter could not deny it – it looked far more impressive than the pathetic places he had seen.

The orphan was ordered on a chair not far from the front desk. From there he had a good view the squad room and the captain's office. He felt proud when he saw the effect Paul's appearance had on this well organised chaos. People would make way, greet or nod, or simply keep quiet. But then, the man stormed inside in a manner that suggested no one in their right mind would stand in his way anyway.

The two detectives from before were dragging themselves. It was quite obvious they were not terribly ecstatic at the idea of being in the same room with their outraged captain.

The older of the two men looked pretty laid back, much like he was no stranger to such situations. The other one, however, was visibly annoyed.

'What got into you, anyway? 'We don't need a backup, we're just checking'…' he imitated and angrily pulled some papers.

'You should have called for backup if you were that scared,' calmly replied the other. 'Eppy's rule number 9: Always listen to your guts.'

In that moment an aging man appeared from behind the front desk.

'Detective Strenlich… He's waiting.'

The heavy man proceeded with heavy steps.

'I should have stayed with the marines…'

Peter gulped, imagining himself facing the same situation. He had most likely blown any chances for decent life on the outside. So, concluded the teen, whatever Blaisdell was planning for him would not matter, because it could get any worse than it already was.

'Hey.'

The boy looked up. It was the older of the two detectives.

'So you're Blaisdell's Wonder Boy, ha?'

'Wha'?'

'Ha-ha. I heard you've really impressed the captain, and kid, not many can do that?'

'I think you mistake me for someone,' shyly replied Peter and looked to the left where an obese rocker with two missing teeth grinned at him. The youth quickly returned eyes to the safety of his feet.

'This was pretty darn awesome, what you did there. …Hey, you look at me when I'm talking.' Peter looked at him.

'It doesn't matter, OK? I'm going back to the orphanage, so who cares. Now leave me alone.'

'Man, I like your temper.'

The detective smiled patronisingly and approached. Silently he handed Peter a chocolate-peanut bar.

'Breakfast for champions, gives you energy.'

'I think you need it more, you're the one catching criminals.'

'Nah.' The man leaned. 'I'm only chasing them, _you_ are catching them.' He ruffled the dark hair and playfully clicked with his teeth. 'See you around, kid, take care.'

With slightly better mood Peter saw the man disappear in Paul's office. He loved his attitude, so much different than the nervous, chubby guy before him.

The boy smiled and himself and carefully hid the dessert in his jacket. He was going to eat it later, in the darkness of his smelly dormitory, alone.

X

More than half hour passed before Paul came back. Peter had not really noticed; he was having way too much fun observing the colourful crowd that could pass from a police precinct.

'Let's go,' commanded the captain without even looking at the boy. Having accepted his fate he was uncommonly energetic, subconsciously trying to copy the cool detective from before.

Paul did not utter a sound during the whole drive back. Peter did not mind. What he minded was the gut-wrenching feeling when he saw the lights of _Pineridge_. This had been his first day out of this damned place that he spent without worrying about food and shelter… and was going to be the last one.

Opposite to how he appeared, Paul's heart ached. Despite today's blunder he still cared for Peter and hated leaving him back here. But he had decided that this precise feeling of the unknown was going to be the teen's punishment, and stuck to it.

'There, you'll be on time for dinner.'

No answer but a nod came from Peter. The captain stretched for something at the back seat but stopped midways. Oddly enough, Peter had also stopped midways, only two steps from the car. Paul saw the young hands tightening into fists and the kid finally turned and came to the car. The window opened but was not allowed to ask what happened. He only had to listen.

'Earlier I said I was sorry… Well, I lied. I'm not sorry. I tried to obey your order which was meant for my good, but had I not acted the woman and her baby would have been hurt, and I could not allow that. No one gets hurt as long as I can help it; this is how I lived my time since the temple and I'm not planning to change it. I know you'll never want to see me again and you'll be right not to, but I'm really not.'

Peter gulped, finally took a breath, and finished.

'There, you don't like lies, so I did as you wanted, told you the truth. Good-bye!'

Then the teenager turned and left. He walked steady and with head right up. He had finally had a glimpse of what he could be, and he liked it. With this new insight Peter entered the building that had become his home with no fear, only determination.

Meanwhile the car that drove him back was still there. In it a completely speechless Paul Blaisdell was sitting with his hands powerlessly dropped to the side. His eyes were wet. Wet with remorse, with compassion, with admiration, and finally, with a new feeling that had crept to the back of his heart and made him dread the very idea that this ill-mannered, pig-headed teenager would be anywhere else but by his side.

X

Back at the Blaisdell residence things did not get better. Annie immediately figured something was wrong and shortly before bed Paul found himself paying dearly for the injustice he did to the orphan.

'And… yes, I shouted.'

'Let me see if I get his straight: first your men mess up a robbery situation, then an impulsive ex-marine shoots in the middle of a crowded street, and finally it's up to a kid that's not even 15 yet to fix their mess! And you thanked him by shouting at him?! Paul Blaisdell, I am ashamed of you!'

In moments like this Paul thought that it was the wrong Blaisdell that had been made captain.

'Annie, I was so scared.'

'Of course you were, and you found the most caring way to show it.'

Now Paul was looking at his feet.

'I don't know what your plans regarding Peter are, but you ought to go and apologise to him… and thank him, too.'

'I will, I promise.' He leaned and tenderly kissed the pale cheek, a clear sign that he had been forgiven.

'And you know what the most bizarre thing was? He excused himself by claiming that the robber was going to stumble on top of one woman who was pregnant.'

'What do you mean?'

'I'm reviewing footage from two security cameras in the areas, so Peter might have been right, but none of these women looked pregnant.'

'It doesn't mean she's not...'

'No, of course not, but how could he know?'

'Ask him and let me know.'

X

After a boring meeting with the police commissioner Paul arrived at the precinct after 11. His men were already inspecting the tape.

'Will I like it?'

The two detectives shared a meaningful look.

'Depends on what you want to see,' said Epstein and handed him the remote.

Without even taking his coat off Paul pressed play and watched. He did not say anything. Under his subordinates' puzzled looks he repeated the action two more times and still did not say anything.

Eppy braved to break the silence.

'Captain?'

'He was right. The kid was right…. He _was_ going to hit these women, and was probably going to escape…'

'Uhm… They called from the hospital,' spoke Strenlich. 'He's conscious, with concussion and two broken ribs.'

Eppy giggled.

'I bet he won't be sharing that story in prison.'

'Wait to see until he's in prison, detective.'

The wide smile froze.

'Do you want us to do anything else, Captain,' tried again Strenlich.

'Stop shooting in crowded areas would be a great start.'

The young detective moved unnerved and slowly headed for the door. There he met a uniform.

'Captain?'

'Broderick. What is it?'

'There's a woman outside… She said it was about yesterday…'

'Great, tell her to come in. …When are you and Josh hitting the streets?'

'In an hour, finishing some paperwork now.'

'Good, go to work.'

'Yes, Captain.'

'Detectives… that would be all. Go out and behave yourselves.'

'Yes, Captain.'

The two men left and a good-looking blond woman entered. Paul immediately recognised her as one of the scared women he was helping yesterday.

'Mrs Rainolds… Please, have a sit.'

'I… I was told to expect a call to testify…'

'Oh, yes, but that would be in a couple of days. The suspect is still in medical care.'

'Ah, good.' She opened her purse and handed something to the captain. 'It was quite a beating he got, ha?'

'Well…'

'Don't be shy, I loved it. This is my way to say 'thank you'.'

Paul opened a white envelope to see a $1000 cheque in it.

'Mrs Reinolds… This is really generous but I do not think we have deserved it…'

'Nor do I. It's for the boy.'

'The boy?'

'Yes, the kid that caught a criminal three big, strong men could not. It's for him.'

Slightly embarrassed Paul put it back inside.

'I.. will give it to him.'

'Where is he? Can I meet him?'

'Uhm, he's in an orphanage, Mrs… He was spending the day with me.'

'Orphan! Heavens…'

'Yeah.'

'In this case, please, send him my deep gratitude. The sum is too small for me to repay him but I could not afford more.'

'To repay him?'

'You see, this man would have stumbled on top of me with all of him might. That would not have been a big deal if it was not for the fact that I'm pregnant.'

Paul's eyes nearly flew out of their sockets.

'You are?'

'Yes, third month. We've been trying for five years. I was at the doctor yesterday, he said we were OK. But if this thug had hit me… I don't even want to think about it.'

Slightly stunned Paul sipped water.

'I… I'll tell him… and I'll give him the cheque. I'm glad you're all right.'

'Thanks to this boy I am.'

X

After his big-city experience Peter withdrew even more from socialising. At first he did it to avoid the numerous questions of what really happened; even the principal was bewildered. After that he felt he was doing it because now the _Pineridge_ inhabitants appeared even duller to him.

Things got worse when yesterday Max came to pick his last things. He was the only one who learned what happened.

'And you say the poor burglar is in hospital? Man, do I feel lucky now.'

The boys laughed at the recollection of the event that eventually made them friends.

'I never meant to hit you hard. As for the thug, I concentrated all of my energy on the kick.'

'Wow…'

'So, how are things?'

'Man, it's awesome! I don't remember my mother so cool… We're having a blast, Pete.'

'That's great, man.'

'My room overlooks the football stadium, you know.'

'Get out!'

'Yeah. Mom has special pass and got one for me. Now I can go to the changing rooms!'

'That's aw-w-w-some…'

'I know…'

'Have you heard from Frankie?'

'Of course not, he hates me.'

'I doubt it. He hated doing things on his own.'

'I wish he hadn't left.'

'Frankie was not meant for this place, Pete, even you could not have changed him.'

'Now I wish I had left with him.'

'Hey, you're still not sure the captain's gonna forget you.'

'Yeah, well, he won't be taking in me either.'

'Do you want him to take you?!'

'I dunno… I wish he was not as nice as he turned out to be.' Peter's face darkened. 'I haven't talked to someone like that since….'

'I understand.'

In that moment Miss Donovan appeared at the door.

'I really shouldn't leave you out of my sight.'

'Sorry, Mom,' uttered Max and jumped.

'Did you tell him?'

'Uhm, not yet.'

Visibly puzzled Peter helped Max with some magazines and watched the tall lady approach with a small packet in her hands.

'So, you're Peter.'

'Yes…'

The teen made a light step backwards, ready to run.

'Come here.'

Max's mother invited Peter on his own bed and looked at him tenderly.

'Peter, you are an incredible young man. And since there are not enough words for me and Max to express how we feel about what you did for us, we'll settle on one humble _thank you_.'

Having said that Samantha handed Peter the package. The boy could not comprehend why everyone made such a big deal of something he had not even done himself. Under the happy looks of Max and his mother a very red Peter Caine accepted his present and kept staring at his feet.

'Thank you… I really don't think… Never mind.'

'Mom, we should go before this wuss here starts crying,' teased Max.

'Shut up,' softly smiled Peter.

'Won't you open it?'

'I chose it,' showed off Max.

'Oh, well…'

Impatiently Peter tore the green wrapping paper, trying in the process to remember the last time he had received a present.

'What?...'

The package contained a set of ten tiny trees, a rolled patch of artificial grass, and finally two train cars – one locomotive and one for passengers.

'Wow…'

'We were wondering if it shouldn't be a whole train set but then we decided to start you off several small things.' Samantha hugged the amazed boy. 'Did we make the right choice?'

'Yeah, I love it! Max, how did you decide on train?'

'I remember you saying you came here with a train, so I thought you should have a train to hopefully help you leave here, too.'

'You're splitting infinitives, Maxy.'

'Sorry…'

Peter looked at the newly united family.

'I don't know what to say. Thanks, guys.'

Miss Donovan kissed the dark hair and got up.

'All right, we've got to go, honey, the lawyer is waiting.'

'Oh, yes.'

'Max, what did you do again?'

'Me? Nothing!'

Samantha giggled. 'We're starting a procedure for changing his name. From next month he's going to be officially a Donovan.'

'Wow, great. Enjoy your new name.'

'Thanks. And you enjoy your new toy.'

The boys shook hands and silently each of them wished that they would meet in a better place… and world.

'Good bye, Peter, take care.'

'Good bye, Max, all the best.'

X

This morning Peter made sure he remained as invisible as possible. Kyle had announced that the MacPhersons were taking him a week earlier and they were expected any moment. The young Caine could not possibly bear another good-bye; all of his friends moving on, getting chances for better lives, while he was doomed to loneliness and retardation at this place for 3 more years – this was a punishment.

Alone like never before Peter was in the dorm, checking on his new toy. Playing with the passenger wagon he remembered his own train trip from California to New York. The strange student of Ping Hai was the best thing during those long hours. He never got to know what so much the old man had to teach the younger monk that he had travelled all the way from China, but he was a good company, and the last man to treat him like a normal, intelligent being before Paul came along.

The monk was also the last one Peter begged for help. With a tiny willow tree in his hands he remembered the living quarter where they dropped the monk on their way to the orphanage. It was a beautiful, green place, full of willow trees. Thinking of it now he felt a bit embarrassed with his childish behaviour then. His outburst and the tears… he was practically begging the man to take him to his temple in China. And when he refused, Peter ran - his first escape attempt.

Now wiser and at the venerable age of fourteen-and-a-half, he realised how thoughtless he had acted. He started even wondering if Ping Hai had anything to do with the fact that whoever he asked refused to take him.

Annoyed, the boy put the miniature models back in the box and helplessly buried hands in his dark hair. He remained so until a presence appeared in the room. The startled boy lifted head.

'Care for some company?'

'Paul!'

Cautiously the cop sat on the edge of the bed but eventually could resist and patted the teen's shoulder.

'You look like hell.'

With unconcealed irony Peter checked his surroundings.

'That must be because I _am_ in hell.'

'I rest my case.'

After an awkward pause Paul took an envelope out of his pocket.

'I… This… Uhm…' The older man massaged his forehead. 'Oh, dear…' Finally he returned Peter's look. 'In this envelope here I've got something… something every hero deserves but sadly not every hero gets.'

'What hero? What's this?'

'Check it out.'

Despite his lack of experience with cheques, Peter pretty much figured what this was when he saw the $1000 sign.

'What is this thing?'

'It's a cheque for thousand dollars. It's for you.'

This was too much.

'What the hell is going on? Why are you all doing this to me?!'

'What…'

The check was thrown on the bed while Peter leapt and nervously started circling in the tiny space between the empty beds.

'First I arrive here with a strange monk who's telling me what a great future I've got and other lies. Then I spent a year and half trying to accept that I'm worthless because that's what everyone's telling me, and now people start coming to me with presents and gratitude. And you…

'Me?...'

'First you didn't want to have anything to do with me and now you're bringing me money? What the hell… What am I, animal for experiments?'

'Peter…'

'Or just because God has decided I have to be alone for the rest of my life, people with families and money have to come and treat me like a dog?'

'A dog…'

'Yeah. When I was on the streets I saw 'em, the stray dogs. Nobody wanted them home, they got constantly kicked or hit, yet they were still given the occasional bone. You know, to keep 'em going. Is this what I am? A stray dog that everybody feeds but nobody really cares for?'

Paul was becoming used to the young man's depth of thought leaving him speechless. This time however, he acted.

The captain got up and approached the upset boy. His hands on the trembling shoulders worked like magic. Peter calmed and shyly looked at the steel-blue eyes.

'Nobody thinks you're a stray dog, son.'

Immediately Peter tried to object the hateful s-word but Paul was faster.

'Eh-eh, I'll call you as I feel, kid, all right?'

The boy nodded.

'Now, I understand how you feel, and you have a point, but you're not a dog.'

Peter nodded again. He was upset and weak enough to let Paul drag him back to the bed.

'Can I explain now?'

' 'K…'

'Do you remember the woman you saved from the running thug?'

'You didn't think I saved her two days ago.'

'Well… You did.' The hazel eyes doubled size. 'You did, and she wants you to have the money because… you actually saved two, not one person. She's really pregnant.'

'I know.' Peter said it so casually like someone was announcing him the weather conditions.

'But how? How did you know? She's still slim…'

'I dunno… She… had something… I dunno… Her chi was different.'

'Chi?'

'N-never mind, can't explain it, but she's a good person and she's pregnant. It's obvious.'

'You can understand that by looking at someone?'

Peter shrugged. However he was still not the least enthusiastic about his newly-acquired fortune.

'What should I do with the money?'

'Well, I was planning to put it in a bank for you… By the time you turn 21 it should be enough to get you started.'

'Started with what?'

'Life.'

'So… You'll tell me which bank and stuff, right? Or you'll tell the principal? I don't know how this works…'

'Actually, I'll tell you over dinner this Friday.'

'What dinner?'

'At my place.'

Now the hazel eyes nearly left their orbits.

'At _your_ place? Me? Why?!'

'Peter, I'm not good at apologies. It's because I hate being wrong, I guess… but I _was_ wrong… and you were right. And you know, you acted just like I would have in your place, and I know… people… who would have acted in the same way.'

Paul hugged the teen who this time showed no resistance.

'…And my opinion of you has not changed. In fact, it's growing.'

'Seriously?'

'Of course, kid. Moreover, my wife wants to know you better, and I think it's a good idea if you meet my whole household.'

'You have kids?'

'Yes, two daughters, a bit younger than you.'

'Girls?!' Peter looked almost disgusted.

Paul burst out laughing. It was adorable seeing a growing boy still in the phase when girls looked just… annoying.

'Girls can be so annoying…'

'You know… How old are you again?'

'I'll be 15 in October.'

'OK. So, when you turn 16, I'll ask you again what you think of girls, see how this turns out.'

'When I'm 16? Are you still gonna be holding talks here when I'm 16?'

Before Paul had the chance to answer Kyle appeared at the door.

'Oh, sorry…' The boy blushed but also could not help but grin at the sight of his friend in the company of the captain.

'Kyle, you're leaving?'

'My folks are here… But…'

'Can you wait?'

'Sure, sure… I'll… see you downstairs. Bye, Captain.'

'Bye…'

Longingly Peter listened to the steps echoing through the hall. He was dreaming one day these would be his steps, and right now this day seemed to be not this far away.'

'Peter?'

'Ha?'

Observing the child, Paul did not want to waste time while meanwhile he did not want to rush, either.

'Kid, at this point you're probably still too afraid to realise it, but I don't intend to have you living in this place when you're 16.'

The disbelieving kid was ready to break down any moment now.

'Are you sure? I'm totally messed up…'

'No, Peter, you're not. In fact, you're pretty awesome.'

'But I've got nightmares, I…'

'We can do something about those, talk to a specialist for instance.'

'No… You'll think I'm crazy.'

'There's nothing wrong with having nightmares, son.'

'You don't know mine…'

'Like?'

'I keep seeing my father. I see him wandering, all alone, I see him crying, and he's calling me, looking for me… He's cold, and alone, and he needs me. At least it's warm where I am… kind of warm.. and he's alone…'

'Peter hey… it's OK, it's OK…'

The boy finally relaxed on Paul's shoulder.

'I miss him so much!'

'I know!'

Paul help the boy tight and protectively pressed head on his.

'Believe me, kid… I _know_ how much.'

Peter sobbed. 'You do?'

'Yes... it's so much, you can't really describe it. And the pain is so strong it's sometimes chocking you…'

'Yes, that's pretty close.'

Paul kissed the wavy hair and wiped the teary eyes. He even had a hankie.

'I don't like being alone. Do you?'

'No, I hate it. I think my father hated it, too, though he never admitted.'

'Then let us do something about this loneliness of yours. I'll pick you Friday evening, 6 o'clock… Be ready!'

'But… it will get late…'

'So? I'll bring you back the next day.'

'But where am I gonna sleep?'

'I have a room…. _just_ for you.'

'Neat… I guess…'

Paul chuckled. '…And, if after meeting my two little monsters you don't run here begging Bine to take you back… we may as well make a habit out if it.'

'Of… me having dinners at your place?'

'Dinners, weekends… Summer is coming.'

'So? I have summer school.'

'Right, you'll need to catch up…'

'Sorry?'

'Never mind. Look, let's start with this dinner and see how it goes from there, what do you say?'

Peter nodded and finally smiled.

'OK, it's a date.'

Two gentlemen shook hands and another deal was sealed. Then Peter jumped.

'I…'

'Go, go.'

Content Paul smiled after the running boy. He could not wait.

While the captain was still upstairs Peter had reached the mezzanine just on time… to see the backs of the McPhersons.

'Kyle!'

The teen turned. He regretted they could not say good-bye but this was not a time to annoy his new foster-parents. All Kyle did was to wave energetically and wait for Peter to respond. The boys' hopeful eyes said more than words. Peter lifted hand and two seconds later fifteen-year-old Kyle was on his way to new life and better future.

X

On Thursday evening Paul's heart was singing. His whole being had been taken by this new… life the house was going to welcome. Fate had not allowed him and Annie to have children on their own, but now they were finally getting the chance. He felt it. With all of his heart and soul Paul Blaisdell knew that it would not be long before he would proudly present Peter as his son. Son!

Significantly less grim than before the captain entered the empty room. Probably for the third time today he was checking on the fresh sheet and blanket, the pillow, the bath-robe and the towels… He had even bought new pyjamas, just in case. All shelves and draws were cleaned up, the writing desk was wiped, the wardrobe's hanging door had been fixed. The only thing the empty room needed now was a new occupant.

Paul had the shiny, black bag from few days ago. Smiling he carefully left it on the prepared bed, then headed for the the other end of the room. He opened a cardboard box, meaning to collect the one piece of furniture that bore the memory of the one missing member from the Blaisdell household.

The box was big enough to welcome the trophy. Slightly shaking Paul reached for it.

'It's time for you to move on, Dan. It's time I let you go, boy.'

He unfolded the certificate that had been hidden inside, folded in a tube and wrapped with a silk, red ribbon.

'You watch over us from where you are, and down here…' Paul looked through the window. '…Down here I'll get someone else to watch over things for you… and me.' Then he returned to the paper with a name, a score, and a black-and-white photo on it. 'It's like we planned it, son, when I'm gone our girls won't be left alone. I'll see to it.'

This time without tears the captain did not bother to fold the certificate. He collected the trophy and left. This evening a well-wrapped cardboard box found place amongst other items in a locked chest at the attic. The basketball trophy was lying on the bottom, its cap right next, and inside shelter had found the certificate for best player of the season - a yellowing paper with a picture and a printed name, Daniel Peter Blaisdell.

X

Thursday night was a calm one at Pineridge, for everyone apart from Peter Caine. He tried to sleep, he really did. But after seeing for Nth time the weird dream where his father appeared with long hair and brought the unknown woman, sleep was not possible.

Barefoot Peter approached the window. It was a beautiful, spring night. Stars were brighter than usual, it seemed to Peter that their twinkle was a song, or a dance, and all objects on the night sky were dancing it together.

Gently the boy knocked the glass and got lost in the dark infinity. He was smiling.

'This time I won't mess it up. It's going to be, I promise.'

The sparkling tale of a falling star crossed.

'You taught me to take things as they come… and I will. I'll take them and make the best of them. I'll make you proud, father. I love you!'

**XXX**


	8. Epilogue

_Later…_

Sunrays reflected on the red-coloured burned skin.

'Peter?'

….

'Hey…'

'Oh, sorry, drifted away…'

'It's OK.'

'No, no, I'm fine, I… I was just remembering out first meeting. God, such an adventure.'

'I've heard him say he had to fight hard to get you.'

'Yes, he had to… fight with me… And I messed everything I could have messed… There, we're ready.'

'Isn't jasmine kind of… girly?'

'Well, he planted it for my mother, and since she won't need it anymore I thought… why not.'

'It's beautiful. And it will grow to cover both.'

'Add the view…'

'Yeah… When are you bringing Annie to see it?'

'Over the weekend.'

Cooling wind moved the heavy, late-summer air.

'Are you OK? Do you want me to leave?'

'Yes, I'm OK… And no, I don't want you to leave… ever.'

'Thanks for taking me with you.'

'After so many attempts for self-inflicted loneliness you somehow assumed that _now_ I'd want to remain alone?'

'I don't know… I thought you'd have a lot to talk about.'

'Nah… We've said it all…'

'But?'

'I'm… I'm so grateful we had time to say 'good-bye'… thanks to you…'

'Nonsense.'

'I'm grateful we had time to catch up the lost years…

'But?'

'I can't believe he'll miss it.'

'Oh, honey…'

'He was right to say he'd never live to see the moment.'

'Oh, boy…. Peter…it's not appropriate to laugh here…'

'Sorry, black humour.'

'…Just… think… wherever he is, he's watching.'

'Yeah. They're probably playing basketball, drinking Bud and throwing peanuts at each other.'

'Peanuts?'

'Paul's favourite tease game. The cruellest part? Somehow I always ended up cleaning the mess.'

'You had good time, didn't you?'

'The best!..'

For a moment the chirping of the birds was the only sound.

'Right…'

'Right… What?'

'I've never paid attention at the amazing view from here.'

'It _is_ impressive.'

'My city… From here it looks like I'm staring at the scene where the amazing play called my life has been taking place… And I swear, I still can't believe all that happened since I left the orphanage.'

'Are you sure we should be doing it now, so close to everything that happened?'

'Now is as good a time as ever, babe. And, we have to respect Paul's wishes, 'no special events are to be postponed because of me'.

'No, he would hate to have us postpone it. But the rest? Don't you want some time to cool off?'

'Angel… Honey, I still have mornings when I wake up and take a second to think if finding my father was not yet another dream. Hell, I still need to make sure _you_ are not a dream.'

'Me too.'

'And the rest… On the one had it feels like it has always been like that, on the other… it will probably take me years.'

'Speaking of that, I keep feeling guilty for the ring.'

'The ring was passed to me by my mother.'

'Yeah… it's her ring.'

'But you like it?'

'I love it! This red stone is like frozen fire.'

'Reminds me of you. …Love… it's your ring now. Only yours. And… in twenty-five – thirty years you feel free to pass it down to whoever of our sons is getting married first… or daughters…'

'Ehm… Just for the record, you know, give me some heads up… How many sons and daughters are we talking about?'

'Can't tell, that's the only hint Pop has given me.'

'Of course… Pop!'

Another mild wind blow brought mild jasmine aroma.

'How much do you think he knows?'

'Out of experience, don't ask questions if you're not ready to hear the answer.'

'Good point.'

'I was just thinking that they spent some time alone at the hospital…'

'Do you think your father has shared… something more with Paul?'

'Frankly, I would not be surprised. And… it would make me feel better.'

'I'm glad to hear it.'

'… Right… Bye Dad, talk to you soon. Bye big bro, take care of him.'

'Shall we go?'

'Yes, come on, we've got a wedding to plan.'

**THE END**

NOTES:

1. The story takes into consideration a never-aired (or never shot..) part of the episode _Dragonswing II_ (s. 2). According to the script in this episode we're supposed to learn that Paul has had a real son who was killed in Zagreb. If you want to read the whole script, here's a link:

honeybat -DOT-COM - go to Maria's corner - go to KFTLC - go to Trivia

(the woman Tara that appears later is by no means to Tara from my Post-Requiem series. The latter is entirely my creation. Also the name of Paul's son and all the rest are my creations.)

2. Here is the moment to mention that ALL of my stories consider the events in the other ones, no matter if they are post- or pre-series. For example, the ring that is mentioned in this chapter appears in the story _Tiger and Dragon_. But that's of interest only for those who want to dig for spoilers. ;) The stories are independent of each other, unless otherwise stated.


End file.
